


The Wayfarer's Way.

by callieicos



Category: Harvest Moon, Harvest Moon: Friends of Mineral Town, Story of Seasons: Friends of Mineral Town (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Development, Coming of Age, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add more tags the more I write, Neurodiversity, Pining, Reunions, Slice of Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 50,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26221951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callieicos/pseuds/callieicos
Summary: Traveling to Mineral town was a huge change for Cliff. Whether that's a positive change or negative one is beyond him. Still, he makes the most of his stay and along the way, learns to open himself up to others again. Claire, Mineral Town's newest resident and farmer, is learning how to become more independent, while also finding people who accept her. Together, Claire and Cliff learn to become friends and get a feel for their vastly new lifestyles together. (On going but on Semi-Hiatus)
Relationships: Claire the Farmer/Cliff (Harvest Moon)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 26





	1. Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic in a _very_ long time. I adore the Harvest moon / Story Of Seasons franchise and the characters in each game. I especially love to give more depth to the character's I write in my stories. I'll do my best, so I hope you'll support me.
> 
> Cliff's one of my favorites in Friends of Mineral town, so he'll mainly be the focus of this fic. I'm honestly not sure how many chapters i'll write, that all depends on the positive feedback I receive! So for now, enjoy the ride!

For the longest time the winding roads were considered Cliff’s home. Each one was never the same, some were paved without any imperfection, others full of cracks and holes, or trails to forests untouched by man. He’s been accustomed to the nomadic way of life for awhile now. Occasionally visiting random towns, sleeping at Inns whenever he had cash to spare, camping out in the woods during the days he didn’t have a dime to his name. This was his way of life, how he was used to getting by. It didn’t occur to him that it would suddenly change otherwise. 

Then one day, be it fate or a whim, he stumbles upon a small town buried cozily in the woods. Really nothing to write home about _er_ — well, if he had one. Still, as soon as he laid his eyes on it something just … _clicked._ From way up on that lush green hillside, Cliff feels the spring breeze hit the back of his head. The wind flows through his brown locks, chilling him to the bone. It gives him an indescribable rush, one that calls him, beckons the vagabond to go and check it out for himself.

He didn’t think this small town would begin to change him, little by little. 

_And then it happened._

Spring comes in the blink of an eye. The sharp crunch of leaves underneath his boot echoes as he walks to the church early that morning from the Inn. They were nice over there. Ann always gave him his meals with a kind smile and wished him well daily, despite barely knowing him at all. Carter was also a kind and humble man, one of the first to accept him into the mysterious Mineral town. Not that anyone wasn’t accepting (even the housewives who gossiped in town square meant no harm) but he didn’t feel pressured to talk around the pastor inside this quaint little church. 

Some days he’ll open up little by little, others he lets the sound of morning mass and organ pipes soothe his tense nerves, ease his anxieties, his guilt. 

Though, it’s never that simple. 

He’s been sitting alone in the front pew for some time now. Morning mass has ended, making him stick out like a sore thumb. Carter lets him stay as long as he wishes. It doesn't take long before he's lost in thought, completely out of touch with the world around him. He barely hears the murmuring voices in the background, one he thought to be the pastor speaking, another he’s not too sure of. Cliff rubs at the back of his neck, staring at the rays of sun leaking through the colorful stained glass. 

“Excuse me..?”

Cliff freezes. He hasn’t heard that voice before. 

“Huh?”

“You’re Cliff, right?” 

His throat goes bone-dry, like he hasn’t drank anything in ages. 

“U-Um, yeah. That’s me.”

“I’m Claire! It’s nice to meet you.” 

Albeit faint, the southern accent prompts him to look up at who he was talking to. Low and behold he was right, he’s never met this person in his life or seen walking them around town before.

It was a young woman. A bit on the short side, couldn't be no older than he was, bearing long, voluptuous blonde hair — gold like a field of sunflowers. She wore a red and white patterned flannel underneath a pair of standard denim overalls, typical attire of that of a —

_Wait._

“H-Hold on. Are you that new farmer, who just came to town?”

“Yeah, that’s me! I’m already famous, huh?” 

The girl giggles and briefly joins her hands together, as if he’d just won a prize or something. One might say she even has a playful glint in her eyes, though Cliff doesn’t maintain eye contact long enough to confirm. 

“Erm, yeah… You’re pretty much the talk of the town right now. “ That’s right, he _did_ recall the new arrival of someone coming to Mineral town. Was that today, though? Or had a few days already passed?

It is a small town, so that’s no surprise to her. She laughs, feeling silly for suggesting such a thing. 

“W-well I haven’t done anything yet… just inherited some ol', rundown farm land.” 

“Yeah?”

Claire nods and beams, miraculously keeping the conversation going. “Actually, it was my grandfather’s! I loved it so much as a kid that I’m determined to rebuild it back to its former glory!”

“I see.”

So much enthusiasm. It’s not bad, though.

It’s not long before the dreaded silence draws near. Now, she stares at him for a bit, appearing puzzled. Naturally, Cliff is the first to break.

“W-What is it? Is t-there something on my face?”

She shakes her head. 

“Oh, okay.” He pauses, then lets out a long sigh. “Sorry… I-I’m not very good at talking to people. I get so nervous, especially when i-i’m alone with someone. ” 

Usually people leave him alone at this point and end the conversation. He’s not exactly an “entertaining” fellow. 

Claire shakes her head once more. “No worries, just take your time.”

He blinks, taken back. 

“So… you w-want to talk to me?”

She nods, hands nonchalantly behind her back as she smiles. 

For some reason, Cliff blushes, surprised that she doesn’t mind how antisocial he appears. Was she that lonely in this town? No — it’s rude to assume.

“Oh. W-Well thanks, Claire.” He mumbles her name, wearing a shy smile. He feels much more composed. Now it’s his turn to talk. A topic’s easy enough, yeah. 

“So you’re going to run the farm all by yourself? That’s a lot of hard work. Good luck.”

“Thank you!” Claire smiles.

She sits down next to him, a few inches away on the pew, being courteous of his space. The two talk some more, little chit-chat here and there, about her circumstances and how she came to Mineral town all alone, not a cent to her name. Just like him, huh? Turns out there was once a prosperous crop farm here, with countless chickens and cows roaming the fields. A true paradise. Now, it’s mostly Rick’s family who handles all poultry affairs at PoPoultry, working alongside the people of Yodel ranch. 

“I-Incredible, I can’t imagine myself raising crops or animals.”

“I took care of a few animals when my grandfather was still alive. But other than that, I'm not v-very experienced.” She bashfully admits, twirling a lock of gold hair between her fingers. A complete one-eighty from the strong confidence she exhibited mere moments ago. “But i’m sure it’ll turn out alright!”

Cliff stays silent for a minute, carefully finding his next words. “It uh, might be weird for me to say. But uh, i’m sure it’s really hard.” Bitter truths, no one likes to hear them — but they had to. He wished someone told him. “So hang in there, okay?”

It doesn’t seem to kick her down, though. Claire perks up quickly and flashes him another white smile. “I will, thank you.” Claire stands, dusting off her overalls. “Right, I should be getting back to my farm.”

“Uh,” Before it even registers Cliff stands, prompting a confused, but otherwise friendly glance from the girl in front of him. He scratches behind his neck. “Not to be a bother, but would you mind talking with me again sometime? O-Only if you get the chance, that is.”

Cliff gulps, suddenly feeling the need to explain himself.

“I’m bad at talking with others, but … if it’s you, Claire —”

“I’d love to! I’ll see you around, kay?”

There’s that smile again, worry-free, bright as day. He stares at it, before he feels his face fall naturally into a happy expression of his own.

“A-Ahem.” Cliff clears his throat. “Well, be careful on your way home.”

Claire waves back to him as she departs, gently closing the giant church doors behind her. They creak nonetheless, same as they always so. 

But today was different. And that was … nice. 

“Ah, She’s sweet, isn’t she?”

Carter’s voice startles him for a moment, but he quickly settles down, feeling sheepish again. “Um, y-yeah.” He had a watchful eye for everyone in town, for better or worse. Cliff’s just relieved he uses that divine power for good. 

“She said she’ll be attending morning mass whenever her farm work permits her. It’s nice having a new face in the church.”

Yeah, it is.

“I ...think I’m gonna go out for a walk. Thanks again, Carter.”

“Of course, come by anytime, Cliff. You’re always welcome here. Blessed day.” 

Cliff smiles, before throwing his rucksack over his shoulder and heading out. 

* * *

The wind has scattered most of the fallen leaves off the roads, still he hears the familiar crunch of a few underneath his shoes. Music to his ears. His walk wasn't eventful, but peaceful nonetheless. Evening has already set in, meaning it’s time for him to grab a bite to eat from the Inn and retire for the rest of the night.

He doesn’t expect to see Claire seated at a table when he enters.

“This tastes _soooo_ amazing, Ann!” 

“If you’re going to be a farmer, Claire. You’re gonna need to eat better! Build some muscle, leave that to us.”

“Oh no I couldn’t possibly come here a-all the time. I have money to save up and —”

Cliff stands awkwardly at the doorway, not meaning to eavesdrop, but it happens. He stops once Ann recognizes him.

“There you are, Cliff!” She smiles, strolling on over towards him. “ What are you having tonight?”

“U-Um,”

“Silly question. You know our menu by now, but you should eat a good meal since you’re always out and about walking, also —”

“I’ll p-pick something! J-Just ... give me a minute.” He talks back, a bit more panicked than he would’ve liked. Ann catches onto him, turning the chatterbox down several notches. He hates just how fragile he is. 

“Right, I'll be in the back. Holler once you pick, okay?” That was so rude of him, yet she doesn’t seem phased at all. 

What is with this town?

He’s getting too comfortable here, that has to be it. No, he doesn’t want to think about that right now.

Shrugging, Cliff grabs the nearest chair he can find and sits down, dropping his rucksack alongside him. He’s bad with people, this is why he actively tries to stay away from them. Saves them both the trouble. Ignoring the increasing groans of his stomach (and they are loud) Cliff buries his head against the table and sighs. 

“Um,”

Cliff doesn’t respond. Well, not until something pokes him against his temple. It had prongs. Hold on, was that a fork?

“Maybe some vegetables will perk you up?”

Finally, Cliff gives in and looks up, swatting away whatever's poking him.

It was Claire, kindly holding out her plate of vegetable stir fry to him.

“Cl-Claire?!”

He straightens up immediately, frozen stiff in his seat, but displaying adequate table manners this time.

“Oh, I’m sorry! You probably don’t want to eat off my plate. That’s gross, huh?”

“No, I mean Yeah — Uh,”

Claire shakes her head and takes her plate back. “Still, eat something, okay? It’s not healthy to skip meals.”

“You’re one to talk.” Ann appears out of no where, loudly thumping a menu atop Claire’s head, eliciting a childish whine from the back of her throat. The two girls banter, while Cliff merely watches the back and forth exchange. 

“And that’s like, what, your _third_ helping? You came in here starving cause you got so absorbed in your farm work!” Ann scolds.

“And I-It won’t happen again, I promise!” Claire bows her head in shame. Cliff can’t help but let out what seems like a dry laugh. It’s not subtle enough, cause it catches her attention.

“Hey! What’s so funny?!” Claire pouts, her cheeks puffed out like a threatened puffer-fish. Is she … angry at him?

“Wha — N-Nothing!” Cliff sputters, throwing his hands up. Suddenly, he wishes he paid better attention to the table he picked. 

Thankfully, she seems to catch and correct herself. “Ah, no. I-I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice.” Claire frowns further, fidgeting with her hands underneath the table. Was she shy too?

“Oh, stop it. He’s not fragile, just shy.” Ann hums, smiling as she sets down a menu for Cliff to look over. “Take your time, kay?”

“R..Right.”

Once again, the silence settles in. 

Well, save for Claire quietly eating what's left of her stir fry. Cliff brings the menu up to his face, lowering it slightly to curiously peek here and there at her happily eating away. He didn’t doubt that she was hardworking, although she seemed to have a clumsy, less responsible side of her own. 

Not everyone has it together. 

He can respect that.

“I think… I’ll have the vegetable stir fry.” He mumbles, peering down at the letters scattered across the Inn’s menu.

Claire blinks, quickly swallowing the food that’s in her food before beaming, lunging at the chance to ask: “Is that your favorite?”

“Um, o-one of them.” Cliff speaks, lowering his menu to look at her. “ Is … is that yours?”

“Mhm! It’s the best!” She grins without a second thought. Her white smile filled with many … tiny specks of broccoli and other remnants of food. Cliff doesn’t mean to stare, honest! But, he does. 

“You’ve, um. G-Got a little, a l-lot actually, in your —”

“Huh?”

She can’t fathom the odd look he’s giving her, until he gestures towards his on teeth, then she realizes _far_ too late. “AH!” Horrified, she quickly brings a napkin to her mouth. “Sorry!”

He cracks a genuine smile, the second time today and — hold on, was that a chuckle?

“It’s alright. I’m a pretty messy eater myself.”

After placing his order the time flies by as the two chit-chat some more. Nothing important either, just completely mundane topics. This has to be the most he’s spoken to anyone besides Carter in awhile. Sure, it had a rocky start, but eventually the conversation became something enjoyable. 

Somewhere along the line the sunset fades, the moon hanging high in the sky alongside the stars. The restaurant portion of the inn was beginning to close, and for some odd reason, that saddens Cliff. It means they have to stop talking.

“Um, b-be safe heading home Claire.”

“Mhm! See ya around, Cliff!” 

“B-Bye.”

He watches as Claire exits the restaurant and onto the main road, holding a to-go container of her favorite veggie stir-fry. He even gave her some of his that he couldn’t finish. 

Turning his head, he notices Ann cleaning the last of the tables with a rag.

“Um, I’m heading to bed.”

“Okay! Night, Cliff.” Ann looks up momentarily and flashes a smile at him, before returning to her work. Cliff leaves her to it. 

Cliff quietly makes his way up the creaky stairs, unlocks the door to his room, and plops down on the bed with a heavy sigh.

What an eventful day.

Cliff breathes in and shuts his eyes, letting the sounds of the outdoors lull him to sleep, just as they always had.

He wonders, will tomorrow be eventful too? Only one way to find out. 

And that's to face it, head on.


	2. A Nice Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new day, a new beginning. Cliff awakens and remembers he has book to return to the library. Claire shows up and surprises him, but their conversation is a _bit_ different this time.

Morning seems to roll around the moment he opens his eyes. The sun hangs low in the sky as rays of dim light pour in through his room, indicating the break of dawn. Cliff doesn’t remember falling asleep the night before. Usually it takes him a while to fall asleep. Oddly last night, he was out like a light. He can’t remember the last time he was that social.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing, though.

It’s still fairly early (the Inn staff were probably just getting ready) so he goes to take a nice, hot shower. Perhaps read the last few chapters of a book he borrowed from the library, then prepare for the day and whatever it may hold in store for him.

Cliff decides to start his day out right with a freshly made omelette, courtesy of Ann herself. It’s delicious, but he’s much too shy to say that outright, so he quietly munches away as he notices her working hard once again in the background. Ann was a social butterfly, everyone gravitates towards her; they were like polar opposites. 

Though, it’s not like he makes himself approachable. That one’s on him. 

Pondering and chewing on a bite of egg (suspiciously longer than it takes) he swallows his portion and sighs. 

“Everything alright?”

Ann appears out of nowhere. Seriously, he didn’t hear her coming and nearly choked. Good thing he ordered some grape juice with his breakfast. 

He takes a gulp from his glass and wipes his chin. “Y-yeah. Thanks for the food.” 

“Oh, stop. It’s my job, you don’t have to thank me!” She giggles, shooting a playful wink his way. He merely nods in response, going back to his meal. 

Though, Ann has other plans. Cheekily she pulls out a wooden chair right next to him, leaning her chest against the front, sitting like some rebellious high schooler. 

Doug was in the back cooking his heart away as well. He seems to handle most of the Inn’s meals, so Cliff’s curious as to why Ann makes it harder on herself to cook specifically for him. Maybe she’s practicing to take over one day? Either way, great eggs — no complaints from him. 

“Too bad Claire didn’t stop by, huh? I guess she’s still doing farm work.”

“Guess so,” he forks up another hearty helping of eggs into his mouth, focusing more on eating than the conversation. 

“She’s so nice! It’s been awhile since a new girl came to town. I mostly spend all my time with Karen and Popruri.” 

If not for all the people watching he does from afar, the image of those two girls would’ve completely slipped his mind. “Mhm,” he takes another sip of cold grape juice, then paps a napkin to his mouth.

“You order that drink a lot.” She states, her bright blue eyes staring him down. 

Cliff blinks, steering gaze to the side. “W-well, I’ve always liked it.” 

Ann grins. “I would’ve taken you more for an “OJ” person, ha! Who would’ve guessed?”

“R...right.” 

Seeing that his plate is conveniently empty, Cliff stands from his chair, pushes it in, and grabs his rucksack. “Th-thanks for the food. Bye.” He starts to walk away, hurriedly, even as Ann hastily calls out to him. 

“H-hey wait! It’s raining, you know?”

Well. Since that’s the case, he still has a bit before the church doors open. 

Thankfully the downpour was fairly tame, showering his freshly-shaven face with a gentle drizzle. He decides to make a pitstop towards the town’s library to return his book, hoping to find another good read to occupy his free time. 

Inside he finds the librarian, Mary, looking as proper and spiffy and … librarian-like as ever. She adjusts her light-rim glasses and greets him with a kind smile.

“Good morning, Cliff.” 

“M-Mornin’...” he looks down, approaching the front desk as he rummages through his bag to pull out the book he borrowed last week. 

“Oh! You brought it back early, did you finish already?”

Cliff rubs at the back of his neck and nods. “Y-Yeah… thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“Not a problem.” Mary smiles, neatly tucking the book under her desk to put away for later. Her tone’s airily cheerful as she strikes up a conversation once more. 

“Now I know you said you didn’t have a preference, but you seem to like adventure novels.” She pauses, opening up a book which seems to be a directory for the entire place. “Well, it just so happens that exact one has a sequel! It’s on the second floor, if you’re interested.”

“Um, a-alright. I’ll go check it out.” He bows his head, before making his way up stairs. Mary waves before resuming her desk work. 

Truthfully that girl wasn’t so bad to talk with, Mary keeps it short and simple. Cliff on the other hand aims to talk for as shortly as possible, like some kind of social outcast — like the one in the novel.

Maybe he’ll find his way, just like the protagonist had.

His footsteps creek up the stairs as the faint sound of rain makes itself known, pattering against the old windows adding a nice “reading-like” ambience. Too bad he’s not here to stay.

The scent of old books and dust tickles his nose as he makes his way around the corner. He sniffles and wipes at it, before stopping dead in his tracks, staring forward.

It was none other than Claire, seated at one of the desks with a hearty pile of books next to her. Huh, Cliff wouldn’t have taken her as a total bookworm. 

Today she wears a short-sleeved red parka, followed by a pair of denim short and black leggings to match. A much more casual look than her farm attire. She keeps her long, blond hair in a lazy ponytail that hangs off her shoulder. It looks damp from the rain. Did she forget an umbrella too?

Normally, Cliff would leave her be, especially since she seems engrossed in ... whatever it is she’s reading. But that’s the thing — he wants to know what caught her eye.

Is that weird?

Somehow gaining the courage, Cliff swallows the stubborn lump that consistently clogs his throat and approaches her.

“H-Hello, Claire —“

His voice is soft to respect the library’s rules, Claire however, isn’t shy to make herself known. 

“So turnips are the way to go for beginner farms. Cheap, fast and easy to grow, then you make a profit. Alright!” She closes the book with such a loud bang it makes him jolt backward, knocking into an empty chair. 

Making himself known in the worst way possible, hastily, he rushes to prop the chair back upright before Mary could come up and scold the both of them for making too much noise. 

“Oh, Cliff!”

Once again the chair stumbles back, but he manages to catch it this time.

“H-Hey! Keep your voice down in the library!” He curtly reminds her, his tone surprisingly stern. Claire seems to remember where she’s at, and giggles as she brings a finger up to her mouth, motioning that her lips are sealed. No offense taken.

“Hehe, Sorry.”

Cliff lets out a long sigh, avoiding her gaze. Maybe that was a bit too harsh. Strangely enough, it doesn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. Seriously, what’s with this girl? 

“N-No, it’s alright. Um, are you here to pick out a book?”

“Yeah! And you?”

“Um, yeah.” 

Why else would he be here, subjecting himself to complete and utter embarrassment from his own clumsiness? Actually, again, that one’s on him. No one seems to care but him. 

Claire stands from her seat and grabs the large pile of books from her desk, only struggling somewhat to keep them all from dropping. Looking closer, there were a bunch of farming manuals for beginners, books on raising poultry, livestock, raising crops and even a budgeting book or two in the mix.

“Wow… you’re really serious about this farm, huh?” 

“Yep!” She hums, bright and cheery even on the rainiest of days. “Mayor Thomas entrusted me with this farm, so I’m gonna give it my all!” With a burst of determination, she marches on forward to check out her books, but fatally misses a step and starts to fall forward with a small gasp. 

Normally, Cliff freezes at crucial times like these and disaster ensues. This time, he’s better prepared as a pair of hands quickly catch her shoulders, stopping said potential disaster. _Thank god._ Although, the way they’re situated has him blushing ever so slightly, noticing Claire’s face landed straight into his chest. 

“U-Uh,”

The contact is short, but against his chest Claire pulls back and gazes up at him with big, blue eyes, as if still processing what just happened. Were they always so blue? Snapping out of thoughts prompts him to move back as soon as she regains her balance (hes sporadic, not impolite. )

“I’m so sorry!” She exclaims, her freckled nose scrunched up in dismay, like a worried little chipmunk. She frets way too much. 

Cliff forces a smile, awkward as ever. “Um, It’s alright, d-don’t worry about —“

Before he can stop her, she assumes the form of an extremely formal and apologetic bow. Soon after the books slide right out of her arms, tumbling down like a stack of dominos.

“.....” 

Both of them stare at one another, not quite sure what to say.

“What in the goddesses’s name is going on up there! Cliff? _Claire._ ” Mary calls from upstairs. Ironically, Claire’s name comes out a lot more sternly than his own, and the panic on her face shows.

“Sorry, Mary! My fault, totally!”

“Duh.” She retorts. “Just be careful!” She adds on, seemingly returning to her duties. 

Cliff stays silent, not sure whether to laugh or ignore what here transpired all together.

Luckily, Claire takes the initiative and quietly drops down to her knees, attempting to clean the horrible mess she made. Cliff stands there, trying to piece together all the facts so far. 

Come to think of it, her eyes seemed a little puffy up close, and it looked like she was trying to appear more peppy than usual. She seemed troubled, yet bears it all in silence all while putting on an act. Maybe she wasn’t as put-together as he originally thought?

Well, nothing wrong with that. He’d be a hypocrite, otherwise. 

“H-Here,” he lowers to the floor, stacking the books into separate, more manageable piles. Even a mess like himself could be efficient. Claire doesn’t protest and instead, the two quietly work together in unison to fix the problem. 

The rain mixes in naturally with the sound of shuffling books against the hardwood floor. For a while, they ease into what he believes is a comfortable silence. The universe proves him wrong though as Claire speaks up, her voice abnormally weak.

“You were right,” she vaguely smiles, however, that little gleam of sunshine is gone. “Farming it’s … A-A lot of hard work.” 

Cliff watches her face, studying it’s expression. It’s clearly troubled, contorted in an array of emotions he can’t fully register. Yet they’re all so familiar, like one's reflection in the mirror. Like his own. 

Cliff purses his lips together in a thin line, confliction strong in his eyes while a dull ache settles in the center of his chest. She looks like she was about to burst from all the pressure, like a balloon filled to the brim with air, ready to pop at any moment. 

Without warning, Cliff pushes the pile of books towards her, stands, and makes a B-line for the stairs, fleeing the scene all together.

Rubbing at her swollen eyes, Claire brings a stray book up to her chest as she watches him fade from view. She looks down then goes completely silent.

Of course, it would happen in this town too. 

The smile she wore so bravely wobbles and weakens into a feeble frown, her crestfallen eyes swelling up with tears as she struggles to keep them all in. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry, it’s barely her first week here! Though here she is, feeling hopeless and ready to call it quits and move back home. Maybe she bit off more than she could chew. Maybe people _were_ right about her.

Out of no where a crash of thunder hits, causing quite the commotion downstairs as Mary seems to have a “mild” fit. Distorted voices of “what do you think you’re doing?!” reach her ears, followed by an endless spew of frantic apologies. Did a bookshelf fall over or something?

Who’s she kidding, she could care less — needs to worry more about herself, needs to fret less. 

Still, all the noises make her whimper, like a scared little puppy. Tightly she cusps her hands over her own ears, overstimulated and just _begging_ for it to end. However, feeling a firm jolt to her shoulder, Claire immediately opens her eyes and lowers her hands. Low and behold — it’s none other than Cliff, disheveled and out of breath, holding an old novel in his hand. 

“H-Here, read this.” 

Wait, what?

Barely making herself look presentable, she wipes away her tears and gawks back at him. “H-Huh?”

“When… When I had that same look in my eyes, I-I needed to look for a reprieve, an outlet for all that stress.” Cliff pauses, taking in a deep breath. Once calm, he sets the novel atop the other books. “This helped me a lot a-and I thought, maybe, it can help you too.”

Claire looks back at him. Those tender blue eyes wavering with fragility, like unsteady waves. However, the upset naturally calms and she takes the book from his hands. Examining the cover, she reads the title aloud. 

“The … Wayfarers Way?” 

Cliff nods.

“It’s about a man who leaves his home town in search of adventure. Although it’s — not all it’s cracked up to be.” He sighs, standing and extending his hand out to her.

Claire takes it, pulling herself up from the floor. Heck, maybe out of her own rut, too. Cliff continues to explain the plot of the book.

“He’s confused, but determined to make the best of things.” He lifts the pile of books off the floor with ease, turning his head over his shoulder to face her. “It’s about finding your way, your own path, along with all ups and downs that follow.” 

She looks at the book, then back at Cliff. This time, albeit wobbly, her signature smile returns. 

“That sounds beautiful.” Claire mumbles and looks down at her sneakers, not feeling completely better, but far more composed.

“Here, I’ll help you carry these back to your farm. W-We can carry them in my bag, so they don’t get wet.” That's the least he can do for bolting without warning. 

“Hey, Cliff?” Claire follows him as he begins to walk down the stairs. Cliff turns around, raising a curious brow as they meet on the same step. Funnily enough, she reaches up to just about his shoulders. Then, much to his surprise, Claire grabs half the pile to carry for herself. She flashes another smile at him, as if it’s the easiest gesture in the world. 

“Thank you. You’re a real nice guy.” 

She goes on ahead and greets Mary, who’s still upset at Cliff for rummaging through her desk without consent. Cliff stands there in pure silence, watching them as Claire calmly tries to diffuse the situation, Mary scolding her without a trace of malice.

A nice guy, huh?

His steel eyes soften as he closes them, heading down the stairs. 

Cliff shakes his head, reluctantly joining the girls as Mary begins to chew him out for earlier. No surprise there. Claire tries to explain that it was no fault of his own, but hers as he nonchalantly plops their books on the counter. 

A nice guy? Probably not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! This time I decided to include Mary! Don't worry, she only jests Claire because she already cares about her. Cliff, well, needless to say he's not as _gentle_ with the books. Ann also likes to tease Cliff, although he's unaware of that. Poor guy. Anyways, enjoy the second chapter! Many exciting things to happen in the upcoming ones! I'm filling in a lot of blanks since the rest of Cliff's heart events don't seem to happen till autumn. But, I may change around a few, who knows! Regardless, please enjoy and remember to comment, kudos, and enjoy the read!


	3. Friends

By the time they leave the library and head outside the rain’s calmed to a gentler drizzle, less heavy than it was when he first ventured out this morning. There’s still about an hour before the church opens its doors, so it’s not an inconvenience whatsoever to help Claire out.

Because that’s what friends do, right?

They _were_ friends, right? 

Feeling the cold air brush against his skin he shivers and hugs his lean frame. On Claire’s end, she seems entirely unfazed by the weather. No chills or change in expression whatsoever. He’s a rugged mountain man, sure, though farmers need to learn to tolerate all kinds of weather just to get the job done. 

She has that down-pat, at least. 

“I guess the rain helps when you’re a farmer, huh?” Cliff pauses. “Y-You know since … there’s less to water and all.”

Claire nods slowly, looking up at the sky full of puffy clouds as they walk. It’s almost like she’s not used to being referred to as a “farmer” yet. Probably because she’s still in the novice ranks. A baby chick, freshly hatched in a world full of strong, independent hens. 

“Yeah! I tilled my soil last night and planted my seeds, so I had less to do today. All I had to do was harvest the fruit trees.” She undoes her ponytail as they walk and talk, threading blond tresses through with her fingers, readjusting her damp hair with ease. She looks over at him after tightening it back into place.

“But, I haven’t shipped out all of them yet. You can have a basket, as a thank-you for helping me out!” 

Cliff clears his throat and politely declines. “N-No, that’s alright. You should be making as much profit as possible.” 

A strong finger jabs into his side. He winches and rubs at it to ease the pain. What the hell?!

“Ow! Hey, wh-what was that for?!—“ 

“Money is important, but showing your gratitude? Even more so!” Claire insists, her hands calloused and bandaged gripped to her hips. Just how hard has she been working in less than a week? “So no _what-if-but’s_ about it!”

"B-But—"

That stern expression she holds so well implies that she will _not_ be taking “no” for an answer again. Meaning, he has no choice but to accept. With that in mind, Cliff puts up little to no resistance and gives in, slacking his shoulders as he drags out a rather long sigh of defeat.

“A-Alright, fine. You win.” 

Used to doing so, he nonchalantly goes to take the lead. However, It’s quickly stolen from him as she rushes past him, giggling and beaming with newfound energy. 

“Great! Let's get going then.” 

And off she goes, stealing the lead from him right under him with a sense of excitement he can’t quite explain. 

Humming your everyday tune from the radio, Claire skips in the light rain, easily bouncing off puddles as if she were a ballerina, dancing her heart out on stage. Her ponytail bops and sways naturally along with her movements. It's like she's in her own little world. Cliff keeps walking and watches in amazement. 

It’s almost like she never broke down crying at the library, ready to call it quits. 

How strong of her. 

It doesn’t take long for them to reach her farm. It still looks run down. As much as a tough and diligent hard worker she was, he didn’t expect the place to be in perfect condition right off the bat. That would take time and a miracle. 

A good portion of the debris and wood was moved to the back, most of it already chopped down to suitable material in a bin towards the corner-end of her house. All her farm tools are visible from here as well.

The farm house is just as he remembers it from the hillside. Old, a little run down, but still livable. Right away, he notices the seeds tilled into the field, tucked in blankets of moist dirt. He’s not an expert, but that looks pretty neat for a beginner. Maybe she does have what it takes.

“Are you growing turnips?” 

“No, those are potatoes. Tomorrow’s agenda is turnips, though!”

Cliff smiles a little, relieved that she’s in higher spirits.

“It’s a lot of hard work, but you’re doing great so far.” He speaks honestly, not a stutter or ounce of doubt in his voice. Truthfully, Cliff didn’t think his words carry that much weight. 

However, Claire seems relieved that he had spoken up about it, despite it being such a sensitive topic moments prior. Her smile is even wider now. Sometimes, words of encouragement are all one needs to hear to get back on their feet.

“Thanks, Cliff. You’re a good friend.”

He blinks, the corners of his mouth drooping almost immediately. Oblivious, Claire turns his back to him, twisting the knob to her farmhouse, ready to welcome him in and show nothing but her sincerest hospitality. No way, he doesn't deserve it.

“You can come in, dry up and — Cliff?”

“We’re … friends?” He reiterates and squints, having a hard time believing it.

Most people get impatient with him or leave him be. Claire, however, makes nothing of it. She talked to him as if it were mundane. She gently takes a hold of his hand, guiding him inside, trying to mask the subtle concern on her face. 

“C’mon, don’t be silly. Course’ we are.” 

Cliff halts halfway inside the doorway, the light of the house reflects off his face. It’s a warm environment, so inviting, and part of him is scared to enter so casually. He wonders if it’s even allowed at all. A lonesome guy like him, prancing in an environment like that — thinking that he retains the right to actually _belong_ somewhere again. 

“But, y-you barely know me!” He brutishly jerks his hand back, getting defensive for no reason. Why was he so upset? Claire doesn’t know an ounce of his past, the guilt he lives with, and he doesn’t plan on telling her. Tranquil as can be, Claire finds his hand and guides it back into her own, her grip more firm this time. Not too tight, just enough to soothe his shaky nerves, as if reassure him that it’s _okay._ He could just leave if he truly wanted, her grip isn't _that_ fierce. Although Cliff refrains, wearily looking back at her with wavering levels of trust.

This time, there’s a raw emotion to her expression. Not jubilant or melancholic, but understanding — as if trying to match his level, understand him and his irrational fear of getting too comfortable with others. An effort not too many people are willing to make. Would she be any different?

“And you barely know me. But, we can change that with time, can’t we?” Letting go of his hand Claire begins to walk inside and holds the door open, wholeheartedly expecting him to follow. However, Cliff still doesn’t understand. How can one person be so welcoming? Unconditionally accepting? Cliff just stands there, clearly on the fence about it. Sharp as a tack Claire senses this and shrugs, calmly testing the waters of his mood once more. 

“Come on, it's really not a bother. And, if you’re so worried about _“intruding”_ then you can help me wash the grapes and apples I picked from the trees this morning.” 

He tries to make an honest effort and hide it, but he immediately perks up at the mention of grapes. They were his favorite fruit, after all. His eyes gleam at the thought of having ones from a farm. Claire notices, giggles, and playfully tugs him by the arm into the house, which only flusters him more. This is too much social interaction for one day!

But … It wouldn’t kill him to help someone out for once. Be where he’s needed, _for once in his life._

Upon entering, Cliff dries off his boots on the welcome mat and sets his rucksack near the closest counter. He carefully unpacks the books she checked out from the library one by one, making sure his “recommendation” keeps separated from the farming section. 

Afterwards, he takes in the full ambiance of the house, thoroughly scanning the area. 

Compared to the outside, the interior of the house was small, but quite cozy. There’s a kitchenette on the far left of the house, a quaint fridge, old-style stove, equipped with all your basic living essentials. A rustic style dinning table and white tablecloth to match. There’s a vase of freshly plucked wild flowers smack dab in the middle, blooming in a variety of different colors, their scents nothing short of heavenly. He's a nature-lover at heart.

The sound of crackling wood catches his attention, revealing the classic stone fireplace. Which, does wonders on clearing up her the fog from her windows, making quick work of the cold weather lingering outside. Claire’s bedroom is on the right side tucked cozily away in the corner, with more rustic and shabby-chic furniture to match. 

And of course, there’s also — something rubbing against his leg?!

_“Meow,”_

“Ah!” Cliff jumps back, clutching at his tunic like it’s a lifeline. Claire strolls on over like it’s nothing major and laughs, scooping the calico kitten into her arms. 

“Mitzy! So that’s where you were.” The cat purrs happily in her arms, lazily swaying its tail as two different colored eyes stare him down. Makes sense for animals to be protective of their owners. 

“S-Sorry, I don’t hate animals, was just startled that’s all.” Cliff pouts, unsure whether or not he should put his hand out to touch the small feline. He didn’t hate cats, they were cute. But, he's definitely a dog person for sure. 

Claire pets her cat and thinks nothing of it. “It’s alright. I understand.” 

Phew, that’s a relief.

Claire gently sets the kitten down, watching as it goes to relax atop it’s lilac pet-bed, respectively set a safe distance away from the fireplace (seriously, how on earth did he miss that?)

“She’s friendly, by the way. So she won’t nip if you want to pet her.” 

“R-Right. Maybe another time.” 

Cliff takes another quick gander around the house, as if not to seem completely out of place. There’s a small television set in the corner, one of the really _old_ sets from what he assumes to be the early 1990’s era. There’s even a video player and old tapes to match the set. 

Claire notices him staring and scratches at her cheek, appearing a tad self conscious about it. “Sorry I know it’s a little outdated, but it was my grandfathers and I didn’t have the heart to pitch it. Still works great, though!”

“O-Oh, no. I wasn’t judging.” He explains, starting to smile from a burst of nostalgia. “It’s nice to see one in such good condition. We had one where — “ Cliff pauses, then shuts his mouth. Blinking, Claire tilts her head.

“Where?”

He frowns, which quickly turns into a grimace. “Nowhere. Forget I said anything.”

Luckily, she takes the hint and doesn’t pry any further. Instead, Claire leads them both towards the kitchen. Cliff follows and notices there's already freshly picked fruit lying about in a green strainer. 

“You like grapes, right?” She turns on the faucet, adjusting the water to just the right temperature. Cold, but not freezing. “I’ll wash these, put them in the container, and you can take them back to the Inn with you!” Going straight to work, Claire picks up the strainer and swishes the grapes around, letting whatever dirt and debris flow safely down the drain. She really knows her way around a kitchen. 

In that case, he just can’t stand here and let her do all the work. A man should work for his fruit.

Cliff joins in and takes over holding the strainer. Seems simple enough, after all he’s cleaned off wild fruit before eating it. “Here, i’ll do it.” Claire, while surprised he's taken charge doesn’t argue. Instead, she works on cleaning up the red delicious apples on the counter.

“I was going to give these ones to Carter! Some honey and apples for him to snack on, and those little kids that hang by the church.” 

“Oh, you mean Stu and Mei?”

“Yes! Them. Aren’t they adorable?”

Cliff smiles to himself. How thoughtful that she thinks of others, even total strangers. It seems like they were total opposites. Not .. that he himself wasn’t a nice person, mainly, he struggles to connect with the people around him. For Claire, it doesn’t seem like a problem.

Then again, Cliff barely knows anything about her. Maybe, he should ask? Start to get to know her a little better.

“Um,” He looks down at the pristine sink, grapes clean and free of dirt.

“Oh, did you finish? Thank you!” She smiles, taking the strainer from the sink and removes the grapes, setting them atop some paper towels to dry off.

“Uh, yeah.” Guess he did.

He watches as Claire moves over to the cabinets, tiptoeing to grab some spare containers. The cabinets are full of Tupperware, paper plates, and antique plates. Were those hand-me-downs from her grandfather?

“It's nice that you and your grandfather were close.” He states, starting to pick and place the grapes in containers once adequately dried. They’re brightly colored and plump to the touch, indicating their rich sweetness. Claire follows suit as she grabs an apple, casually examining her reflection. Her deadpan smile stares right back at her. 

“We weren't _that_ close. Not really.”

Cliff closes another container of grapes and stops, questioningly tilting his head. Wait, was he wrong? “Hold on, y-you ... y-you weren’t?”

Claire shakes her head. Cliff, falling back into his nervous habit, rubs at his nape and lets out an loud, awkward laugh. A very poor attempt in easing the sudden dramatic shift in atmosphere, one that he undoubtedly caused. Damn it, Cliff. _Get it together!_

“S-Sorry, it just seemed like you were! G-Given how much you like to talk about him.”

“No, that’s alright.” Her expression twists into something less sad while she removes her hair-tie for good, letting her long, blond hair fall down past her shoulders. Maybe she feels more comfortable that way, keeping her back to people. “I went to his farm every other summer as a little kid. Whenever my parents didn't have the time to take me somewhere, due to work.” 

Cliff multitasks and continues to package the grapes, listening as she talks.

“I thought it was boring at first, staying at this farm,” she reminisces while peering out the window, the farm in full view as the rain clouds gradually start to clear. “There wasn’t much to do or many kids around my age to play with. Still, he kept me company and showed a spoiled little kid all the wonderful things small towns had to offer.”

Hold on, Claire was spoiled? He finds that hard to believe. 

She begins cutting the apples into neat slices, placing them one by one in the Tupperware. “Then, after a week I began to love it. We rode horses, took care of the chickens and cows, went fishing and even cooked what we caught! I was _so_ bummed when the summer ended.” 

Claire chuckles, tucking a strand of stray hair behind her ear. “Since then, whenever summer came around I visited. Then, after he passed away I ended up inheriting the farm. Ultimately, It was up to me whether I wanted to sell it or not. ”

“But you didn’t.” He remarks, packaging the last of the grapes.

They finish around the same time. Claire turns to face him, handing him a container of fresh, honey drizzled apples. Her expression softens fondly over at her friend.

“I didn’t. I’m glad I didn’t.”

Cliff takes the container, a small smile gracing his features to match hers. 

“Yeah, I’m glad you didn’t either.” He replies, not really thinking about how that sounded. It’s only when Claire stares at him, all wide eyed in awe that he realizes just how bold that sounded. His fingers tighten around the plastic container, bashful and clumsy as ever.

“I-I mean! Y-You really seem to like it here! S-So it’s for the best that you’re where you’re the most happy a-and all— ”

“Cliff.”

The way she says his name, so tender and sweet, only makes him blush more. The lump lodged in his throat prevents him from talking any further. At that moment, the sunshine naturally filters through the room, making both her and that lovely smile of hers the most radiant it’s ever been. Finally, he speaks up. “Uh, y-yeah?”

She walks closer to him, placing a hand gently on his broad shoulder. She smiles, and his heart races.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, thank you.”

The touch doesn’t bother him at all. Actually, a wave of relief washes over him as he softly breathes out, looking her way with softened eyes. They may not know much about one another yet, but today really broadened his perspective on relationships. Yeah, that’s right, Claire _is_ a great friend.

“Okay, thanks.”

Claire stands by the counter to stack the rest of the containers, carrying them in her arms. “Alrighty! We have enough fruit for you, Ann and Doug over at the inn, along with Carter and the children!”

Cliff grins, bearing his smile with pride. He’s comfortable here, with her. It's nice. “Yeah, and then we can — ”

Hold on a minute. Carter, _the kids at the church …_

Instantly his blood runs cold, his gut practically _screaming_ at him to take a look at the apple-shaped clock hung on the wall. The big hand and little hand read: _8:40am._

Cliff chokes loudly on nothing, startling Claire in the process.

“Church is in twenty minutes!” He’s never late. Hell, he’s always the first one there before anyone else!

Before Claire could offer any reassurance that they’d make it in time, Cliff fails to listen. Instead, the containers of fruit are hastily stuffed inside his rucksack, it's owner running out the house, as if it were engulfed entirely in flames. He already has the reputation of _“Town Loner”,_ he doesn’t want _“The Town Town; Who’s Never On Time”_ added to the title! _That’s so much worse!_

“H-Hold on a second, Cliff!” Claire yells frantically for him to wait up, but to no avail he’s too far ahead. "Ugh! Men!" Hastily reaching into her pockets, she frantically grabs her keys and hurriedly locks the door, before chasing after the runaway vagabond. 

“Cliff, you oaf! Wait up!”

With the rain’s departure comes the hot morning sun, shining down brightly upon them to signify the start of a brand new day. 

She has a strong feeling they’ll be pretty eventful from here on out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah men, they never listen do they? Honestly I usually _never_ write this fast. Although, after adding the "google docs" app on my phone it's easier for me to focus. I'm on a roll! Cliff's starting to open up, little by little, and having fun with his friend along the way. :) enjoy!


	4. Helping Hand

“Wow! These are great, farmer lady!” The little boy Stu grins, happily munching away on the honey-drizzled apples Claire had prepared earlier that morning. A sweet and healthy snack. Claire smiles to herself watching the children eat, Elly would be over the moon if she knew this! 

“She has a name, Stu.” Mei frowns at his rudeness. Regardless, the little girl also seems satisfied with their afternoon snack. They’re almost as good as Carter’s snacks! “It’s Claire, and she makes really good apples!”

“I’m so glad you two like it! “I’ll be sure to bring more next time I stop over.” Claire speaks, leaning over with a wet napkin to wipe Stu’s messy face and fingers, which are coated to the brim with honey. How cute, she just adores children. “Especially you, Stu! I thought for sure you didn’t like me after what happened at the clinic yesterday.”

“Oh, the bug? It’s fine, Elly’s was the big crybaby over it.”

In the blink of an eye Elly hunches over her younger brother, hands set on her hips, far from amused. She clicks her tongue. 

“Oh, I was, _was I?_ ” 

Speak of the devil and she'll appear.

_“Ah!”_

Stu nearly falls off the bench at his big sister’s surprise entrance. The child grumbles, protecting his container of apples from the big bad witch. “Big meanie! Don’t sneak up on people like that!”

“And you shouldn’t talk behind others backs!” Sternly she lectures him, just as any big sister would. Claire didn’t have any younger siblings, yet, she can’t help but feel a warm sense of nostalgia observing the two argue back and forth. It doesn’t escalate very far before Elly is quick to switch topics. “Oh, what do you have in your hands there, Stu? Hopefully not another bug.” 

Stu sticks his tongue out and Elly huffs, offended. 

Taking that as her cue to step in, Claire chuckles and affectionately pats the top of Stu’s head. “I thought a little honey and some apples from my farm would suffice as an apology for making him cry the other day.”

Elly gasps, shocked by her generosity. “Oh, Claire. That’s so kind of you, but I already told you! Those were nothing but crocodile tears.”

“Tears are still tears, sis.” Stu gets the last word in as hops off the bench to go play with Mei. Elly merely sighs, but ends up smiling fondly at her little brother as the two children venture off to entertain themselves. 

“Well, at least you’re exercising and eating healthy.” Elly thinks aloud, before politely bowing her head. “Thank you so much for thinking of him, Claire.” 

Claire, thinking nothing of it, blushes and motions her hand downward. “Oh please, it’s no trouble at all! We’re all just sitting outside, enjoying the sunny afternoon.”

“You’re right, I’m so glad the rain cleared up.” With a spot now vacant, Elly sits next to Claire on the bench. “So tell me, how's the farm work?”

“Great!” Sure there are still a few bumps in the road to success, but she didn’t need to trifle her with such matters. “It’s a lot of manual labor, but nothing I can’t handle!” She grins, proudly rolling up her checkered sleeve to show off her growing bicep. Though, Elly doesn’t seem impressed. Not in the least. Actually, she looks more concerned after that.

“Farming must be a lot of hard work. Please make sure not to overexert yourself. If you’re ever feeling ill don’t hesitate to come to the clinic.”

Classic Elly, always adamant about the health check-ups. It’s a good thing Claire finds it endearing and not annoying. She leans forward, pressing a hand over her heart to officiate her word. “I promise, if I ever feel sick you and Dr. Trent will be the first ones I call.”

Elly smiles, getting comfortable in her seat as she fixes her white apron back into place. “I’m glad to hear it.”

The girls spend their time indulging in small talk while the children run and play around the church. Simple topics, stuff about the weather, their jobs, and then, people of interest.

“I heard you came in with Cliff this morning all in a rush. What was that about?”

Claire sighs in recollection. Nothing like barging into the house of god completely unannounced. And they weren’t even late! Leaning back in her seat, Claire stares up at the sky, watching as the clouds fly by with a childish pout. 

“Oh, nothing. We got caught up in chatting and he got all worried he was going to be late for church.” She straightens her posture, fidgeting with the colorful band-aids rolled around her fingers. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but I didn’t take him for a religious guy.”

“No one knows much about him,” The brunette admits, resting her cheek into her hand as she sighs. “He just came into town one day and stayed ever since.”

A world traveler, huh?

Well, she can’t fault him for wanting to see what this world has to offer. That’s the whole reason she moved to Mineral town in the first place. She was tired of her stuffy lifestyle back in the city, constantly imposing on her parents, making nothing of her life. It was time for her to spread her wings and fly into the unknown! As scary as it could be, Claire believes she’s ready. 

“Are they still both inside?” Elly, curious, peeks over at the church. It’s large wooden doors firmly shut. She shakes her head. “Well, regardless, thank you for looking after Stu while Carter’s tending to his church duties.” 

“Not a problem at all!” Claire loved to help out other people. Not only was it a wonderful feeling but it made her feel useful, and gave her a sense of purpose. 

After passing the time chatting, sooner than later Stu walks up to Elly and tugs down on her apron. Looks like he and Mei were ready for a change of scenery. She bids Claire a warm farewell and escorts both children back to their house for their play date. 

Claire waves back before gathering all the empty containers into neat stacks. She’s delighted to know that the kids enjoyed their snack. The spring breeze blows softly, tickling the back of her neck. She turns the same direction as it blows, conveniently enough, it points right towards the church. Cliff and Carter are still inside. She bites the inside of her cheek, contemplating going inside or not to check on them. 

Should she check on him? After all, he did act a little weird this morning. What if he was making a confession? What if, he did something wrong — 

Claire smacks her own cheeks so hard, they leave behind a bright, red imprint. Ouch. 

Ugh, no! Snap out of it! Cliff isn’t a bad person, never was — and never will be in her eyes. She won’t even entertain the thought. 

Stuffing the empty containers into her rucksack, Claire pulls out the shopping list she wrote the day prior, aiming for a head start on her chores. Alright, first up’s the general store for some groceries. Then, a trip to the Forge so she can pick up her newly upgraded tools from Saibara. Got it.

She tucks the list inside her pocket, walking towards the main road. 

This is all she can do right now. 

* * *

Inside the church it’s peaceful, but abnormally quiet. Not a peep was heard, even the outside winds couldn’t penetrate their sturdy walls. All is kept secret, every word between the pastor, confessor, and the gods of faith. 

Cliff sits in the dimly-lit confessional, quietly drumming his fingers against the finely crafted wood. The faint scent of pine tickles his nose. Carter sits on the other side as always , divided by a latticed window. He’s no stranger to this rodeo. However, just like last time they didn’t make much progress.

Cliff tends to share very little during their private sessions, yet Carter has the patience of a saint (quite literally) willing to hear whatever he has to say that day, even if it’s nothing at all. Most days he’ll sit in complete silence, others he prays quietly to himself while the priest bears witness. 

Today, he’s not certain what he’ll do. 

“Take your time, there’s no rush.” Carter kindly reminds him, falling back into respective silence. 

But it’s nice to have someone there. 

“I — I was lost,” He mumbles, feeling a dull ache rise in his stomach. Cliff winches and clutches at his gut, one step ahead before it gets the chance to tear him apart. The more he talks, the more uncomfortable it feels. “I just wanted to leave home, to find myself, but —”

He can’t see Carter’s face very well, but he knows he’s there, watching over him. 

“All I did was … lose more.” Cliff confesses, feeling sick to his stomach as he curls in on himself. Tightly he clings to his one knee, clutching it like some scared little kid. Maybe he still is, deep down. “I lost so much that I can’t get back. I was selfish. I wish I could go back and do it all over again.”

Carter stays quiet for a bit, before eventually speaking up, his voice hushed. 

“We all lose our way from time to time, we are only human.” Carter begins, his expression tender. “Not always can we regain what we’ve lost. Rather, we have to focus on what we can gain in our lives. Not to dwell too much on the past, but to pray for a brighter future ahead.”

Cliff does his best to soak in his wise words. It may not help completely, or heal all of his underlying pain. However, it’s still great advice and one day, just maybe, those same words might help him, or even somebody else in the future. 

Trembling ever so slightly Cliff shuts his puffy eyes, inhales a deep breath, then joins his shaky hands together in prayer. 

This is all he can do right now. 

* * *

Their session lasts longer than usual. Cliff managed to open up a little bit and Carter gave him more words of advice, followed by a few passages from his book. Positive mantras if you will, ones that can help people get through the day. It’s already evening when the two converse outside the confessional, now in the middle of the church. The sun is just starting to set, a beautiful orange glow naturally filling the room. 

“How does supper sound to you, Cliff? I think we’ve both earned it.”

Usually he dines alone at the Inn, at a table far off to the corner. Eating with someone else sounds nice for a change. 

“Sure.”

“Wonderful, I’ll place an order for Ann at the Inn.”

Carter moves to where the old wired phone resides. It’s a pretty short order, already knowing what Cliff likes to eat, while Carter himself isn’t a picky man. Afterwards, the two resume their conversation. It’s good practice for Cliff, talking with the priest. Little by little, it’s getting easier to talk with others. There’s even a smile on his face, proof of his higher spirits. Their conversation only halts once the Church doors creak open, behind them, a familiar face. Carter smiles and welcomes the wandering lamb in. 

“Oh, if it isn’t Claire! Perfect timing.”

“Really?” Claire waves as she enters the scene. Cliff immediately spots her walking down the aisle. This time, she’s out of her farming overalls and back in her red parka and denim shorts. Her blond hair is worn down all the way past her back. Cliff notes how beautifully it shimmers in the light of dusk, like a meadow of yellow flowers. Her hair reminds him of the marigolds he’d see on his countless travels. 

The priest clears his throat, gesturing to the both of them. 

“Cliff and I were just making plans to have supper here today. Won’t you join us?”

Carter’s voice snaps Cliff out of his thoughts. He really needs to stop daydreaming out of the blue.

“Y-Yeah!” He quickly joins in, nonchalant as ever. “If you don’t have dinner plans um, w-would you ... like to join us?”

Honestly, he’s hoping that she’ll stay for a while. Is that weird? Before he can ponder on that thought, it’s already been decided. 

“Sure, I’d love to! I haven’t eaten yet, so it all works out.” Claire happily nods, then stands right besides her friend.

Always so positive, it’s starting to become contagious. 

Cliff smiles down at her, light laughter spilling from his lips as he rubs the back of his neck. “I-It’ll be nice to eat with you again, Claire.”

Of all the times to remember, Claire recalls the “incident” that happened back at the Inn the other day. Embarrassed, her cheeks flush as a hand comes up to cover her mouth. Cliff arches his brow, oblivious as to why she’s acting weird all of a sudden.

Carter stifles a chuckle and smiles to himself. “Ann should be here shortly, would you two mind help cleaning up before she arrives? I’ll be in the confessional, so if anyone comes, let me know.”

And off he goes, leaving the two little lambs to themselves. It’s good practice for Cliff to talk with others besides himself. 

Before Cliff can interject, Carter’s already made his retreat in the back room. “Ugh, Carter!” Cliff shrugs, pinching the bridge of his sun-kissed nose. Seriously, putting all that work on them? That’s unfair! Besides, Claire already does enough manual labor at her farm, she shouldn’t have to clean up the church on top of it all. 

Cliff turns to face her visibly frustrated, feeling partially responsible for dragging her into this mess. 

“You don’t have to clean, Claire. I’ll take care of it.”

Claire doesn’t need to think it over, her minds already set. “No, it’s alright. I’ll help out! What do I need to do?”

His brown eyes go wide, just a little.

“R-Really, you don’t — ”

“Wow, now that I really look it’s kinda dusty in here, isn’t it?” It’s hard to maintain an entire Church by one’s self. Handling an entire farm by herself, she can relate to falling behind. “Here. I’ll go find a rag.” Claire searches through the drawers, finding one rather easily. “Let’s get to work! Food tastes better after you finish your chores.” 

Cliff watches, before his face slackens naturally. Always the helper bee, huh? Yeah, that’s Claire for you. “That’s… Awful nice of you,” he murmurs slowly and then, he smiles. “Well, i-if you don’t mind lending a hand with this.” 

“Not one bit.” 

Claire begins dusting off the pews, mirroring his expression. In fact, she didn’t mind at all. She enjoyed her little moments of peace with Cliff.

Working together the two wipe down all the pews and until they’re pristine. While they’re at it, Claire finds two mops and a bucket and they take it upon themselves to mop the floor. Lots of people come into the church every day, after all. Cleaning all of that is taxing one a person. Therefore. Claire doesn’t mind helping Carter, as she relates to his unspoken struggles. Claire was in the zone, hard at work, not leaving a single speck of dust or dirt in sight as she diligently washes the sides of the white benches. Cliff merely stares in awe. Both her hands are covered in band-aids, her nails slightly chipped at the tips. Then this morning, as they ran hand-in-hand, he noticed that her palms were starting to form calluses (no doubt from all that rigorous farm work.) In appearance they were smaller than average, but she didn't let that stop her from lending out a helping hand. She worked just as hard, if not harder than anyone else in Mineral Town. 

Not bad for a beginner. 

Claire squeezes any excess water out from the blue rag as it drips down back into the gray bucket. Just as she’s ready to start cleaning the other side, in the corner of her eye, she catches Cliff staring at her from across the room. She cocks her head, her big blue eyes fixated on him. 

“Is … something on my face?” She jokes. 

Huh, that sounds familiar. 

Oh yeah, that was their first conversation. _Duh._

“Oh, s-sorry for staring it’s just — you’re really good with your hands.”

Claire blinks. Sure the complainant's a little odd, but she knows Cliff is socially awkward, so it's not meant to be taken weirdly. Still, she can’t help but chuckle back at him. He really knows how to tickle one's funny bone. 

“Thank you?” 

Her tone of voice has him clear his throat, clarifying what he meant:

“I mean, I-I couldn’t help but wonder if you work this hard on your farm, too.”

From morning to night her hands ached. Whether it be from tending to crops or taking care of her first chicklet (a wonderful _welcome-to-town_ gift from Popuri) she was constantly using her hands. Her once finely manicured nails were starting to chip. Any nail polish she used to wear quickly faded away after moving here. Not to mention with each passing day, her palms began to feel more and more like cheap sandpaper from a hardware store. Though, none of that was bad. In fact, Claire thinks of them like true badges of honor, wears them with utmost pride. It only proves how serious she is, that she’s willing to work her butt off to become a full-fledged farmer. 

Because she is. She wants to prove herself capable more than anything. 

Looking down at her pruney fingers Claire smiles. She’s wrings out the rag once more, giving the pew one last final shine. It’s so clean that her face reflects in the white surface, her expression soft and fond, Cliff also within peripheral view. Letting out a warm hum from her throat, Claire gently shuts her eyes, her voice hush as she replies. 

“Yes, I always do.”

Cliff firmly wipes down the seats on his side, going on with the praise as if it’s nothing special. “Tending to the fields and animals. Rushing to town, then foraging in the forest.” He’s seen her out there often whenever he wants a quiet reprieve not too far from town. “It’s amazing, you really make efficient use of your time.”

It’s true. Honestly, she’s shocked she’s able to maintain a proper social life on the side, and with the town’s vagabond of all people. Of course, Claire loves chatting on the regular with the other girls. However, there’s no denying she’s most likely to be seen near Cliff’s side. Claire giggles to herself. They’re like two peas in a pod. Ha, maybe she’ll grow some peas next month!

“Is something funny?”

“O-Oh, nothing!” She flusters, feeling her cheeks grow hot. “Just — thought about w-what I'll start growing for the summer time.”

“Oh, I see.” 

Claire sighs and wipes stray beads of sweat off her brow. _Phew._ Nice save. 

Finishing up on his side, Cliff wrings out his rag, then hangs it off the side of the metal pail. He stands to stretch his stiffened muscles, letting out a soft groan. “That’s still a ways from now. It’s good to be prepared, but don’t overthink it too much, alright?”

Hold on, was he — looking out for her? 

All at once, for reasons she’s unaware of, her rosy-stained cheeks tingle as her lips curl into a big, warm smile. Failing to hold it in, a little titter slips out from her mouth. “Mhm,” she can feel the butterflies flutter about in the depths of her stomach. She’s fizzier than a soft drink after hearing that. When was the last time somebody cared for her like that? 

“Thank you, Cliff.” 

Cliff notices the drastic change in demeanor and shoots her a strange look, but Claire could care less. She’s so over the moon right now! Cliff, letting out an airy laugh, walks over to grab their buckets to empty them out back. 

“O-Of course. Anytime.”

Claire’s watches as he heads towards the back entrance, vanishing from her sight. Yeah, there’s no way he did anything immoral. No way, Jose. Without a doubt in her mind, Cliff is a good person. She feels silly for ever doubting him. 

He’s back before she can begin to miss him. Eagerly she stands to greet him, hands playfully concealed behind her back. “Do we have anything else to clean or all we all set?”

“Hm..” Cliff thinks and rubs at his chin, brushing his thumb underneath the faint stems of stumble that hang off his skin. “Nope! Don’t think so.”

 _“Cute.”_ Claire thinks to herself, casually admiring his features. Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges, but honestly? She kinda likes that about him. Perfection is overrated. Though, such thoughts will never reach the light of day. They’re entirely hers to keep and to smile about later. 

“Great.” Claire curls a piece of blond hair around her finger. Nonchalantly, she looks to the side and purses her lips, feeling bashful all of a sudden. Strange, she’s usually fine when alone with him. Then again, this is the _longest_ time it’s just been just the two of them. Cliff seems to realize this as well and goes quiet. 

As if in sync, they both speak up at once, fumbling on each other’s words. “Um, s-so —”

Before either of them can get a word out, as if on cue the church doors creak open loudly, causing them both to jolt. 

“Did someone order food?!” Ann cheerfully announces her presence, holding two take-out bags of delectable, homemade meals from the inn. About time!

Claire, smelling their food from here, hears a rather fierce growl sound from somebody’s stomach — _her_ stomach. Mortified, she whips her head the other direction, avoiding all the wide eyes locked on her. 

“Pftt.” Cliff brings a hand up to his mouth and snickers, before his traitorous mess of a stomach goes around and does the exact same. “Ahah, oops.” He gulps, grinning sheepishly. Talk about bad timing. 

“A-Alright, I’ll go ahead and get Carter. Tell him the food’s here.”

“S-Sounds great!” Claire exclaims just a little too loudly. Cliff (far too distracted by hunger to acknowledge it) just nods and rushes over to the confessional to go fetch Carter. Ann, however, way too observant for her own good, looks over Claire’s way — a mischievous glint seen in the ocean of her vast, deep blue eyes. Nothing got past her.

“Ohhh~ Was I interrupting something?” She teases, nudging the blond’s arm with the tough part of her elbow. 

“Huh? Oh, n-no! Not at all!” Claire, now sputtering for no reason, frantically waves her hands about in all sorts of directions. That southern accent of hers really comes out whenever she’s all flustered. “We were just cleaning the whole time till’ you got here.” 

“Aw, really? That’s boring,” Ann sighs, somewhat disappointed as she takes out various containers of food, setting them out. Claire tilts her head and pouts. What else would have they been doing all this time?

“Had I known you were joining them, I would’ve brought _double_ the serving.”

Claire huffs and swats at Ann’s shoulder, hard. Ann laughs it off and hits her back with a playful shove. Cliff returns shortly after, noticing that the girls are already seated, chattering away, like two blue birds on a phone line. It’s nice to see them laughing together, he notes. 

“Well I’ll be off! You guys enjoy the food! Bye, Cliff, Carter. See ya, Claire!”

Everyone bids the inn keeper’s daughter farewell. After settling down and thanking the Harvest Goddess for their food (only natural, given the environment) all three of them chow down, with big smiles stretched across their faces. 

Times flies as the evening sun begins to set, dusk turning into night. Crickets sound off in the distance as Carter stands in the entrance, bidding the two a good night. 

“Good night, Cliff, Claire. Peace be with you.”

“Bye, Carter!”

Claire waves and the two walk together down the main road. The surrounding buildings and street lamps keep it well lit, and with officer Harris frequently patrolling the town, they had nothing to worry about.

“Thanks for inviting me to dinner, Cliff.” Claire hums, walking next to him as she watches the stars twinkle above them. They were beautiful tonight. Cliff didn’t notice, as he primarily kept his focus on Claire. He smiles modestly and shakes his head. He couldn't take the credit. “I-It was all Carter’s idea, but, you’re welcome.”

“Regardless, next time is my treat, okay?” 

“S-Sure.” 

After treading down another block the Inn comes into view, meaning, this is where they part their separate ways. 

“Normally I’d come in to see Ann and Doug, but Mitzy is probably getting restless. This is the longest I've left her alone.” Claire pouts, looking down the road that led to her farm. She left some of the lights on and put out enough food, but still, she couldn’t help but fret. 

“I’ll tell them hello for you. It's late, go on and head home.” Cliff reassures her with a faint smile, before pressing his hand against the door, opening it halfway before turning to face her one last time. “Good night, Claire.”

“Night, Cliff! Be good now, you hear?”

Cliff watches her go from a casual walk, to a light sprint back to her house as she disappears from his line of sight. Her ranch is a little ways down the road, but he’s confident that she’ll be fine getting back safe and sound. She’s strong, after all. 

Cliff enters the Inn and greets the owner Doug at the front desk, who’s currently preoccupied counting all the funds earned earlier that day. He still had a lot of cash left before he would have to move to the next town. Unless he finds some work soon, that day will fast approach. 

It crossed his mind once once, asking Doug for a job, but Ann handled the fort pretty well. Plus, he’s utterly horrible with people, no doubt the customers would think ill of him.

He’ll figure something out, just as he always had.

Cliff heads up the stairs and creaks open the door to his room. Exhausted, he plops back on the freshly-made bed, lets his rucksack clumsily fall to the hardwood floor, and sighs. The brunent cranes his head just enough to get a small glance out the window, stars twinkling faintly whilst the moon glows bright. Yeah, the stars _are_ beautiful tonight, aren't they?

Feeling sleepier, he shuts his weary eyes and breathes out slowly, mumbling his last words of the night.

“Night.”

Meanwhile Claire, wearing a pair of strawberry pajamas, a sleeping Mitzy by her side, also happens to peer out her window from her bedside. Her farm was looking cleaner, less debris scattered around the fields, more crops growing, thriving, — just like real farm land. Things were turning out for the better. Claire smiles to herself, then leans over to turn off the lamp on her nightstand. Getting comfortable under the covers, she lets out a hearty yawn, before drifting off. 

“Sleep tight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know i'm going _slightly_ out of order with the heart events. But honestly, there's such a huge gap between Cliff's heart events it felt awkward not to include this one sooner. I'm excited to get to the fall season, to properly introduce some more characters, but all good things come in due time.


	5. Differences

After about a solid week, Claire was getting the hang of the proper farmer’s lifestyle. During the first week waking up so early in the morning felt like genuine torture. Now? She’s up ten minutes before her alarm goes off, roaring and ready for the day ahead, eager to start on her daily chores. After enjoying a light breakfast and getting properly dressed for work, Claire heads out to the stables to greet her new friend. A baby horse! A surprise gift from Barley over at Yodel ranch. Such a kind old man. Pushing open the saloon-styles doors Claire hears the little foal neigh, her mouth chock-full of hay as if to say “good morning!” to her brand new owner. A piece of yellow straw flies out and scratches at her now scrunched-up nose. Claire wipes it away and smiles in response, smoothing a hand out against her soft side. 

“Morning, girl! Ready for the day?” 

After an affectionate and much-needed brushing session, Claire leads the young foal out to wander freely around the farm to graze. It’s far cleaner than when she first lied her eyes upon it. Gotts, the local carpenter, was kind enough to clear out the rest of the boulders and fallen logs. He even offered to size them down into real material for her! Claire already chopped a fair portion of wood, but saw no harm in letting a professional take care of the rest. She needed all the help she could get, especially at such a crucial point of her new career. At the beginning no less, which could very well make or break her. 

Still, after taking a good look around, it was beginning to look like a legitimate farm. Although not exactly the same as her beloved grandfather’s, Claire is determined to rebuild the old farm she loved so much in her own image. Yes, this is her farm now, and it lacks a proper name. Mayor Thomas was kind enough to give her time to think about it. But, he also established a deadline by the end of this week. She has to put _something_ on that paperwork sooner than later. 

After spending the entire morning tending to both crops and livestock alike, the sun beams vibrantly down on Mineral Town, hanging high up in the sky like a scene straight out of a children’s picture book. Claire grabs a rag off the fencepost and wipes the large beads of sweat off her freckled face. She could practically feel the heat radiate off from her cheeks. If she doesn’t get used to it now, then the summer season’s sure to be one hell of a demon to conquer. 

Noticing that it’s an hour till noon, Claire cleans herself up a bit before venturing out into the nearby woods. She was due for a little visit to a friend. Following the dirt pathway, she sees Gott’s wood cabin come into view. Being such a talented carpenter, there’s no doubt that he crafted the entire building himself. She hopes to one day be just as dedicated to her farm as he is to furnishings and crafts. 

With a firm knock and a quick twist of the bronze knob, Claire innocently peeks her head into the doorway. Only in a small town could you get away with this. A hearty man with a beard greets and invites her inside. 

“Yo, Claire! Come on in. Good to see ya.”

Gotts waves for her to come in and she does, politely shutting the door behind her. The house was messy, just like the last time she was here. Various blueprints were sprawled out on the table, a large green mat on the floor with wood shavings and tools lying about to tie the classic “workaholic” look all together. A kettle was brewing at a steady heat on the nearby stove. Then, the earthy scent of pine tickles at her freckled nose. It’s as if she never left the outside at all. Claire closes her blue eyes and takes it all in. How homey the whole place feels. Small, but humble. It makes her smile. Claire walks further into the room and properly greets him back

“Mornin’, Gotts! Great to see you too.”

At that moment, the silver kettle blows steam and whistles loudly throughout the small cabin. Yelping, Claire immediately plugs her fingers in her ears, her face scrunched up in pain. She hated just how sensitive she was to high-pitch noises. Thankfully, Gotts hurries on over and quickly silences the blasted contraption. 

“Goodness! Sorry bout’ that. Loud lil’ thing ain’t it? Here, sit down and have some tea. I have your order ready in the back.” 

“O-Oh, sure! Thank you so much.” Claire blushes, still embarrassed from mere moments ago as she pulls up a chair to the table, taking a seat. Claire politely sets her hands on her lap, fidgeting with the band-aids layered on her fingers underneath the table, while Gotts fiddles around in the unorganized cupboard, making tons of noise. In a way, he reminds her of her late grandfather, back when he was still spry as a spring chicken. 

“Alright, lets see here —” 

She notices he sets down one, two, and then — hold on a minute, _three_ mugs? Claire blinks. Something wasn’t adding up, didn’t Gotts live alone? Before she can ask, the answer finds her quicker than expected. 

Out of nowhere a hand firmly grips the back of her chair, causing her to jump in her seat. Her fingernails dig deep at the wood base underneath. 

“All this commotion is stifling my creativity from flowing, Gotts!” Like an afterthought she’s ignored entirely, as if she weren’t here visiting whatsoever. What nerve! 

“Bout time you took a break anyway!” The older man laughs heartily, ignoring this strange man’s complaints. Like water straight off the duck’s back. That’s just how Gotts was, though. Still Claire can’t help but frown, feeling uneasy around this particular stranger. There was someone she hadn’t met in Mineral Town yet? Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, Claire keeps her head bowed, only raising it when Gotts calls her name.

“Claire! This is Brandon, the guy I'm sharing a roof with. Brandon, meet Claire.”

Strange. He wasn’t there last time she came to see Gotts. Just what kind of person was he? Reluctantly, Claire turns to face this “Brandon” person. After one good look, Claire feels her tense nerves naturally begin to slacken, while a whole new feeling settles in her chest. One she can’t quite describe just yet. 

It’s a guy, just like Gotts mentioned before. His hair was full and luscious, not to mention a nice shade of wine red, almost as if it were pouring endless glasses of the stuff. His brows were also thick, giving the entirety of his face a more serious demeanor, while his eyes were like pure. uncut amber. Her gaze travels downward as she notices the open collar black shirt, with a unique, spiral-like necklace dangling off his neck. The saw dust layering his clothes doesn’t go unnoticed, same for his large hands stained top to bottom with the stuff. He was both normal looking, yet extremely “out there” all the same. 

“Nice to meet you,” She speaks.

“Brandon’s an artist. He does all kinda artsy stuff, carving and sculpting and what-have-you,” the rest seems to slip his mind, to which Brandon seems to take mild offense. 

Gotts starts clearing off the table so it’s somewhat presentable for guests. Better late than never. Gotts hands Claire her mug first. A nice blue one. “I found him out cold in the woods. Spent so long lookin’ for good lumber to work with that he keeled right over, he says.”

She nearly spits out her tea. “What?!”

Gotts lets out a boisterous laugh as he sets down Brandon’s cup. “Couldn’t turn my back on a poor sap like that, so now i’m lettin’ him freeload here with me.”

“”Freeload”? Please. You could at least say I am simply rooming with you.” The redhead sighs, boldly taking a seat across from her as he takes a big sip from his mug, unfazed by its piping heat. Now, he decides to acknowledge her presence. “Anyway, Claire, the pleasure is all mine.”

Such a formal manner of speech. It wasn’t bad, though. 

Claire wearily holds onto her cup. Her brows seem to knit in clear worry and building frustration. Brandon notices, but before he can begin to ask she speaks up, earnest with her words. 

“You should be more careful,” she pauses, putting down her drink and delivering quite the hefty disapproving look. “Overworking yourself like that … what if Gotts didn’t find you?”

A lecture straight off the bat. Claire didn’t care, though. That was very reckless and foolish. 

His eyes shrink to the size of pin-dots. “Astounding,” Brandon pauses, rhythmically tapping his finger against the hot ceramic. “Are you legitimately concerned for my well being?”

“Yes!” She suddenly stands, hands propped on her hips as she gives him a stern, chilling look. “If it were still winter that could’ve been real bad. Don’t do that again!”

After an outburst like that, the room goes quiet for a bit. Until Brandon slowly sets his cup down, straying his gaze out towards the small wood-framed window. “I’ll … exercise more caution from here on out.” 

“Good!” Claire huffs, sitting back down and blowing hard on her tea, huffing and puffing like some big bad wolf. She sure felt like one, but with darn good intentions!

“Ah, to heck with it.” Gotts, not one for awkwardness, widely grins and slams his mug smack dead in the middle of the table, startling them both. A warm, fuzzy glow swirls around in his slanted eyes. “He’s quiet and a little weird, but he ain’t a bad guy. Do me a favor and treat him right, wouldja?”

They both look over at each other. Claire merely nods and takes another sip of her tea. Brandon does the same. It continues like that until Claire grabs her order of finely cut lumber and bids them both farewell.

* * *

By the time she makes it back to her farm it’s already noon. Both the chickens, cows, and little foal were out grazing, getting lots of fresh air and soaking in the sun. Claire, looking slightly ragged, approaches her house. There’s a familiar face by the entrance, one that blasts the fatigue straight off her face, replacing it with a bright smile.

“Cliff!” She exclaims, sprinting toward him. Looks like he was just about to leave as well. Good thing she got back home in time . 

“H-Hello.” 

Sheepish as always. It makes her smile more.

“Sorry, I went over to the Carpenters.” She sets the bag of cut lumber down by the side of her house. “Did you need something?”

“Um, n-not in particular.” He looks away, scratching at his cheek. Claire stares, doubting him otherwise. 

Thankfully, Cliff’s an easy guy to crack under pressure. One look and he’s already spilling the beans. 

“I um, w-wanted to see if you were home and if — you wanted to have lunch?” 

Come to think of it, she hasn't eaten since around breakfast. She could go for a bowl, or four, of something scrumptious. “Sure! Let me change and we can head out, ‘kay?”

Cliff nods and stands outside, like some kind of well trained dog. Claire, with the door halfway open to her house, chuckles and tugs him in by the arm. He didn’t seem all that muscular, but after one firm grip she could tell he was. “You can still come in, ya goof!” 

Cliff gulps and stumbles forward into the house. He knows well by now he can’t refuse Claire’s offers. Well, not that he wants too, anyway. 

Claire goes off to change, while Cliff sits on the couch. However, he’s not alone. Currently, he’s playing with the very high-spirited Mitzy the kitten. He wiggles the strange feather toy up and down whilst little paws chase after it. He laughs, warming up to the little feline faster than he anticipated. 

“I bet you chase _all_ the mice out of this old place, huh? Good kitty!”

That’s right. This was her grandfather's home before her own. Come to think of it, what kind of man was he? Claire speaks very highly of him, despite claiming not to have been all that close to him. Actually, he wonders why that is; it’s a thought which stirs about in his mind frequently. Lately, all his thoughts seem to center around Claire and the mundane life she leads. 

Thoughts like, _how is she doing? Is farming tough? Is she eating enough?_

It’s strange; he hasn’t cared about anyone but himself for a long time. Not even his own —

“Meow!” The kitten whines, whacking the still feathered toy in his hand, as if willing it to move again. What an impatient little booger.

“Oh, sorry.” Cliff clears his throat, entertaining the fussy kitten for a little while longer. Until her owner comes out, that is. 

“My bad! I had trouble finding something clean.” Given her new lifestyle, it's impossible to keep everything 100% spotless. This time she’s wearing a short-sleeved hoodie, dyed red like fresh autumn leaves. She wears a pair of worn-out denim jeans with purposeful cuts at the knees. He never understood the appeal of those. Don’t your legs get cold? Still, the “tomboyish” look suits her rather well. 

“That’s okay. You ready? I’ll pay.”

“Uh, no? It’s my treat, remember? I can’t rely on you.” She seemingly "corrects" him, curt at that, which only makes Cliff’s face scrunch in strong disagreement. What did she mean by that?

“What’re you being so stubborn for? It’s not that big a deal. Just let me pay!”

“No!” She reaffirms and forcefully grabs her brown shoulder bag from the chair. Firm in her decision. “I told myself once I made it to this town that I would do everything on my own, including holding my own tabs.” She pauses, going towards the hall mirror to check her hair one last time. “I need to be more independent.”

He’s puzzled, more so than before. Sure, he could be the same way — but ultimately, he tends to give in and allows the other person to have their way in the end. So why is she so hellbent on doing everything by herself? There are already so many people in this small town who are naturally drawn to her, people who care for her, willing to drop everything just to help her. Like him. And yet, she refuses. 

It’s so selfish for no reason. It angers him. Makes his stomach churn and brows furrow in frustration.

Forces him to remember his own past mistakes.

"...."

Cliff scratches behind Mitzy’s ears one last time, before making his way towards the door. 

Claire turns back to face him, her smile carefree as always. He used to like it. Now, it’s as if she’s brushing off the issue. “So! What do you want today? I was thinking —"

“I’m not hungry. I’m going to go.”

The door knob twists with a tight click. 

Claire’s smile droops, falls from her face entirely. He can’t bear to look. “What —“

“I’m — n-not hungry anymore. I’ll talk to you later. _Bye._ ”

The natural light from outside blinds her, then all at once, it disappears with a resounding thud. Same as Cliff’s backside. He’s gone. 

Mitzy lets out a long meow, strolling towards her owner who’s completely unmoving, just like a statue. 

Then, the small feline feels something small and wet fall atop her head. More droplets silently fall to the floor. Without a word, Claire scoops the tiny kitten into her arms, kicks off her worn-out sneakers and falls back into bed.

Claire winches her eyes shut. She's tired all over again.

* * *

After about a half hour of sulking around the house aimlessly, Claire finds herself sitting on a tree stump outside the forest, enjoying a nice, homemade lunch, courtesy of herself. That’s right, she didn’t need anyone to “treat” her. Heck, she’s doing just fine on her own!

After about one bite, gently as she can manage, Claire closes the lid to her half-eaten lunch. The plastic lid snaps shut. Along with it, a part of herself.

Oh, who is she kidding? It tasted plain. Boring and tasteless, lunch at the Inn would’ve been _so_ much better. But, a certain blockhead (who shall not be named) lost his appetite. And for what reason?! 

Claire bites down her lip as her hands begin to shake into tightly-closed fists. Out of sorts, she stands and holds the box above her head, wanting to crash down like a meteorite on the miserable world before her. 

Just as she’s about to throw all her hard work to waste, a hand grabs and jerks her arm backward. Her lunch falls, but is quickly caught by the perpetrator. 

“Wasting perfectly good food isn’t flattering in the slightest.” 

_That voice —_

“Brandon?”

Despite her disheveled appearance, he tilts his head and smiles at her. Albeit, it’s more out of courtesy than actual worry. 

Not that she wants his pity, anyway.

“What brings you all the way here out here? A scenic lunch in the woods? With whom, the cute little bunny rabbits hopping about?”

She shoots him an icy cold glare. Good thing he wore a jacket. 

“Just jesting,” the artist sighs, handing her back her lunchbox. She swipes it back with another spiteful look. 

“It’s none of your business.” Claire remarks. It’s out of character for sure. But she’s so upset she can’t put a filter on her words. 

“But it is. Seeing you all riled up, it’s very unsightly. So unlike you.”

What does he know? They just met today, a few hours ago! She hugs her knees and harshly blows a stray piece of hair out her face. Her eyes are still puffy and swollen from crying earlier, with a flushed, red complexion to match. Yeah. She’s a total wreck. 

“You are fired up for all the wrong reasons. I find myself troubled by it.”

She stops, slowly lifting her head to meet his bronze gaze. 

“You don’t need to tell me your troubles. Frankly, I’m not good at comforting others in the slightest.”

What a shocker.

“Still, bottling it up won’t do you any good. You need an outlet. How about a walk to cool off? I need a change of scenery for some inspiration.”

Claire cradles her knees once more, but keeps her gaze centered on the artist. “Do — we have to talk on the walk?”

Brandon shakes his head. Hands stuffed nonchalantly in his pockets. “Small talk and gossip bores me.”

Usually, Claire comes across as an exuberant, unstoppable chatterbox. When in reality, social interaction can _easily_ tire her out. She masks it well. Today? Not so much. 

Claire stands from the tree stump and wipes at her tired, swollen eyes. No use feeling sorry for herself. She came outside for a reason. It was gorgeous weather, a nice spring day, all of it reminds her of happier times spent at her beloved grandfather's farm. It’s her one solace when she feels down, coming outside to relieve the memories. 

Claire tucks her unfinished lunch back in her rucksack and stands right beside him. “Alright.” 

Brandon smiles. A little more sincere this time. “Let us be on our way, Madam.” 

It’s not a long walk yet neither short lived. They both came to admire the lively wildlife surrounding them. Squirrels, rabbits, even a fox or two! The countryside was like a dream to her, moving from the bustling city felt like total whiplash. Slowly but surely, though, the small confines of Mineral Town began to feel like home. 

The sound of the babbling brook does well to calm her tense nerves. Animals rustling through the thickets, branches being tossed about, crickets scurrying. A symphony of nature. All of it music to her ears. 

After escorting her back to her farm, Brandon bids her a short farewell. She thanks him for the lovely, quiet walk. 

He gets halfway through the gate before stopping to look back at her. 

“Gotts … likes your company. Says you’re like the daughter he never had. Come see him more often.”

Claire, finding herself bashful after such a revelation, just nods shyly at the request. 

Brandon smiles and waves his hand, heading back to the cabin. 

Claire tends to her remaining cattle outside, smiles, and feels lighter than she did hours before.

* * *

“You did _what?_ ”

Ann’s heated glare, along with her hands slamming down fiercely on the counter has Cliff recoil back in his chair. Unable to withstand the heat he looks away, too ashamed to face her. “I —” Cliff shuts his eyes and winches. “I hurt Claire’s feelings today. R-Real bad.”

Ann got the gist of it not only from Claire when she came in for dinner earlier that evening (all alone, for the record.) But now, here comes Cliff, ridden with guilt and coming to her for that one last glimmer of hope to salvage his one other friendship. 

“Did you at least apologize for acting like a total ass?”

Cliff keeps his head down. Ann raises a brow at him, her light blue eyes practically piercing through him. And like the feeble soul he is, he falls prey to it’s delicate, yet ferocious harshness.

“N-No,”

“Well, as _infuriated_ as I am with you right now,” Thanks for rubbing it in. He already feels like shit for letting his stupid emotions get the better of him. “It’s not a guarantee, but ... I _think_ I can help smooth things over.”

He looks up, unconvinced. “How, though? She probably wants n-nothing to do with me now.”

Ann crosses her arms. “Do you want it that way?”

Cliff freezes. Then again, maybe it would be for the best. He’s always fared better alone. And yet, the idea of losing his friendship with Claire makes his heart ache with phantom pains. One’s he’s never wanted to feel again. Losing people is the worst.

“N-No!” He whips his head back at Ann. Desperation prominent in his dark, steel-blue eyes (which are usually so solemn it brings her mood down.) Ann can’t stand to see it any longer and therefore, roughly ruffles a hand into his brown, messy hair. “Oh, calm down. You didn’t lose her. Yet.”

Cliff grumbles and swats her hand away. Ann, unfazed, pulls up a spare chair to the table and leans forward, making sure she’s garnered his full, undivided attention. 

“Alright, you know what tomorrow is, right? Here’s what you’re going to do.”

They chat back and forth for a while throwing out ideas. One sticks out in particular. There’s a point where he deems himself incapable of doing such a thing, but Ann guarantees it’ll all be perfect under her supervision. Before Cliff has any chance to change his mind, Ann practically drags the daft fool back towards the kitchen and they begin to execute their plan.

* * *

The next morning Claire beats her alarm to the punch. Just waking up, she heads straight to the bathroom and takes a nice, hot shower to start the day off right. She stands and lets the hot water stream down her back, taking away the aches of pain of manual labor from that week. As she thoroughly washes her long blond hair, the events of yesterday begin to trouble the aspiring farmer. Fretting does no good, but still, she can’t help but _wonder_ why Cliff reacted that way. Was it her own fault? It drove her crazy, she hated not being able to tell or read facial expressions correctly all the time. 

Other people’s emotions were terribly complex. Like a hard to read book. Whether deliberate or not, she ends up causing trouble for the people around her. That’s why she _yearns_ to be independent so bad. 

“I still have some growing up to do,” Sighing loudly, Claire turns off the hot water before stepping out to dry herself off. Afterwards, she changes into her favorite denim overalls and cotton plaid shirt. She buttons it up slowly, finding comfort in the soft fabrics. She takes it step by step, just like the day ahead.

Her hairs still wet, but she figures it’ll dry once she spends enough time working outside. Opening her front door, Claire freezes in her tracks as she notices a familiar figure several feet away, timidly approaching her farm.

“Cliff?”

She slaps a hand over her big fat, _stupid_ mouth.

He must’ve heard her, because he notices her and immediately approaches closer, fast at that. _No! No! No!_ Panicked, Claire bolts back inside her house and hurriedly locks the door behind her. It’s older than she is, but it’ll hold. Not long after Cliff runs up out of breath and starts pounding on the door, desperation heavy in his voice. 

“C-Claire, wait! P-Please, I … I want to a-apologize for yesterday,”

Dead silence. Still, he senses her right behind that door. Right on the other side is his friend, hurt by his previous, careless actions. It breaks his heart to pieces, but this is exactly how jerks get treated for being big, stupid jerks. Ann emphasized it wouldn’t be easy. Like always, women are right. 

Cliff sighs, rustling in his bag for something whilst looking down at his dirtied boots. 

“Y-You.. didn’t do anything. I mean, yeah, I did get mad over something you said. But it wasn’t necessarily bad.” Cliff, anxious, shuffles his feet around, needing to make _some_ kind of noise to soothe the tension threatening to tear him apart. “My point is, I got upset at you because doing everything all by yourself eventually just … it gets lonely. And I — ”

The words die in his throat, falling deaf on both their ears. He can’t talk about it. He’s just not ready to share his troubled past to her. No one in Mineral Town knows.

“I was a bad friend. A jerk. But it's not bad to want to treat your friends to lunch! I won’t apologize for that.” She can’t see it, but he doesn’t bother holding back the big frown playing about his face. Childish? Perhaps, however, they, are his true feelings. 

“If you feel so strongly about it, then we’ll split a tab from now on. That way it’s even, okay?” 

Well, If there even was a next time. He’s jumping the gun with this weak compromise. 

Suddenly, the door opens and causes him to jolt back. Luckily, he doesn’t drop what he’s been holding. Claire peers just enough so that her face comes into view. 

He hadn’t seen Claire for little over a day, yet she seems … _different._ Her big, blue eyes are puffy, her complexion a subtle shade of darker red. Wafting through the air is the floral scent of lavender, no doubt from her freshly damp hair. Must’ve just gotten out the shower. 

Cliff gulps, wanting to give in to his cowardly instincts and look away from the possible confrontation. But no, she _deserves_ the respect. 

Claire stands and fiddles with her hands, free of band aids this time, littered with old scars and teeth marks, a new addition. His heart sinks at the high possibility that _he_ was the cause of them. Cliff rids his mind of such negative thoughts. That wouldn't help them. 

“Um, what’s in the box?” She points while putting on a weak smile. He can tell that she’s trying, for both their sakes.

“Oh! Um, here.” He holds out said- box as she gingerly takes it from him. “These are for you. I heard they are your favorite. Happy White day.”

Wait, today’s White day? It completely slipped her mind. 

Taking a closer look at her package, she notices it's a quaint little box. It’s colored pink, with a messily tied baby blue ribbon on the front. No doubt the work of a _very_ talented bow-tier. Claire quietly smiles to herself, taking the time to delicately unwrap her present. As for her feelings towards the contents inside, a surprised gasp slips from her lips.

“Cookies?!” She beams, eyes practically sparkling. Not just any kind of cookies, either. No, they were chocolate chip cookies! Filled with chunky, chocolate bits. The best kind in the whole world. She keeps in a little squeal, until the realization hits her. 

“Hold on, are these homemade?”

Cliff, relieved by her enthused reaction, laughs wearily and rubs a hand behind his nape. “Y-Yeah, but I can’t take all the credit. Ann helped me last night. W-We were up all last night making them.”

Come to think of it, now that she gets a closer look the rings under his eyes have darkened. There are also splotches of flour on his face. She lets any snarky remarks slide and instead, steers her head downward, wearing a sadder smile. 

“I’m sorry,”

Cliff blinks at her. “Huh? For what?”

For making him upset, obviously. Claire meekly shakes her head and brings the decorative box closer near her heart, careful not to crush it. “I may act all chipper and outgoing, but I know I’m just a burden to others. Now, I’ve gone and troubled you and Ann too.” She murmurs quietly, her gaze crestfallen.

Once again, Cliff disagrees.

No, that’s not true at all. 

“I wanted to do it.” Cliff speaks. “Ann did too. And trust me, she’s the type of girl who’s firm if she _doesn’t_ want to be a part of something.” Judging by his face, he’s learned that the hard way. 

“You’re my friend, remember? And you’re Ann’s friend too. You haven’t troubled us at all!” 

Simply at a loss for words Claire looks up at him. She was the one to propose their newfound friendship in the first place, but he really took their bond to heart, huh? In a way, she’s glad to know she wasn’t the only one. Naturally, she was upset over their dispute. However, the thought of never talking to Cliff again rattled her more than any silly argument ever could. No fight was worth losing a friendship in her eyes. Not if they could work it out, and she believes they can, time and time again. 

She feels the tears trickle down her cheeks. Quickly, she wipes away the rest and stares up at Cliff, lips wobbling into a weak, but grateful smile. “You mean it?”

“I may be bad at talking to people. But, I’ll never turn my back on them.”

Getting out one last sniffle, Claire’s smile widens as she extends out her hand, her pinky finger extended. “Promise?”

It’s childish really, given their age. Regardless, Cliff takes it seriously without any objection. Looking her dead in the eye with unwavering certainty, he promptly hooks their pinky fingers together, effectively sealing their promise.

“Promise.”

Before he can pull back properly, Claire unhooks from his tall frame and moves forward, embracing him in one of the tightest hugs he’s had in awhile. In fact, he can’t remember the last time someone gave him one. Like a deer caught in the headlights Cliff hopelessly stands there, hands twitching awkwardly mid-air. Her body’s warm to the touch, the breeze is perfectly cool, while his cheeks burn bright as the blinding sun above them. 

“Thank you,” Claire mumbles right against his ear. Cliff barely catches her frail voice, considering how fast his heart’s racing at the moment. Naturally they both break off from another and exchange big, shy smiles. 

Cliff brings a hand to the back of his _hot-to-the-touch_ nape and rubs at it. “Of course.”

“I know it’s not exactly “lunch” but,” she pulls out a cookie from the box and holds it out, almost like another peace offering to make amends. “Can we eat together?”

Cliff chuckles and takes a cookie from the box. “You just can’t wait to chow down, can you?”

Claire lets out an offensive huff, dismisses the notion without a second thought. “Th-That’s not true! I just thought it’d be nice and — ”

His expressions soften, his laughter naturally fading as he takes a bite into the cookie, licking his lips free of any chocolate. 

“I’m joking, Claire.”

“... _I knew that._ ”

After settling their differences, the two laugh as they both head inside Claire’s house, indulging in some classic dessert before dinner. Just like the fun, Cliff hopes their friendship will never end.

Claire hopes the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I spent more time on it and while it still needs some polishing I wanted to update. I'll check for typos/errors later, but for those reading, enjoy!


	6. A New Leaf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Claire struggles to name her farm, she ends up strolling through memory lane, recalling both good times and the bad (Warnings for mild mentions of child neglect and ableism.)

“Claire?”

Currently engrossed studying a thick stack of paperwork, she doesn't hear the sing-song voice calling out to her. Claire, too nervous for words, gnaws her teeth against the bottom of the pen, indulging once again in that horrible habit of hers, one she desperately needed to quit. 

A stranger’s hand, gentle as can be, pulls her hand away from her mouth and swiftly removes the pen. She looks up to see the town librarian and her good friend, Mary, offering a patient smile.

“Why don’t you take a break? I promise the name will come to you eventually.”

The deadline to officially name her property was fast approaching. Two days away, in fact. The time had passed so fast that she failed to find any humor in it. She thought about using the original name her grandfather originally did. Though, this was her farm now. Therefore, she should be the one to give it a brand new name, be the one to make her own legacy come to light.

Not that owning a farm was anything revolunatirty to begin with. Still, it’s important to her! 

“But It needs to come to me now!” Claire whines, slamming her head into the papers with a resounding thud. Without an official name, she could kiss entering the seasonal crop and cattle contests goodbye. A farmer cannot survive without either. Mary, unbothered by this dramatic display clasps a soft hand on her friend’s shoulder and tries to offer reassurance once more.

“Come now, you still have time. You’ve been doing so much to get inspiration, it’s no wonder you’re so burnt out!”

Creative burnout, huh?

It’s true, though. She’s been staying up during ungodly hours of the night, overheating her brain with countless potential names for the farm. She’s searched high and low the entire internet, only to find cheesy, unoriginal and _overused_ suggestions. She’s written out entire lists of ideas, only to cross out the name on every single one, crumbling countless papers into her overflowing waste bin. Nothing but dissatisfaction. 

“Maybe you’re right.”

“As much as I love seeing you here. Maybe some fresh air would be better?” Mary suggests and truthfully, the suggestion is appealing enough. The library was beginning to feel stuffy and being stir-crazy does no one any good. “I’ll watch your stuff for you, go on.”

Mary, like an angel sent from above, collects all the paperwork from the table and stacks everything into an orderly neat pile, securing them all into a manila envelope. She’s been kind enough to file all the official documents away in the library for Claire, as her desk is a cluttered disaster as of late. Mineral town has blessed her with good, kind friends. Support she didn’t have back in the city. Claire couldn’t be more grateful.

“Thank you, Mary.”

Mary smiles. “Anytime.”

Turns out walking out into town did her a world of good. Seeing the townsfolk go about their day, their lovely and welcoming faces, Mineral town was like heaven. Sure, it’s not the huge city she spent a majority of her life in, but she wouldn’t trade her new home, her boringly-mundane life, for all the riches in the world. 

Feeling bold, Claire decides to take the shortcut through the woods and strolls through the miniature forest at her own leisure. The lush green trees provide lovely shade and soothe her stressed soul. 

Fresh spring air sifts through the trees foliage and tickles her fair skin, leaving a thin layer of goosebumps atop her forearms. She runs at them, resuming her stroll. Soon summer would come and take spring’s place. Claire preferred summer a lot more. After all, the season reminded her of simpler, happier times from her childhood. Ones not birthed from obligation and judgement. 

She vividly recalls leaving the view of tall skyscrapers and bustling crowds behind, to visit her grandfather out in the quiet boonies, barely a car in sight. Her parents could afford to take her on a vacation. Financially, at least. What they didn’t want to risk was another outburst at the airport due to all the “unbearable” noise. Cupping her ears wasn’t good enough and her prideful parents refused to give her “unsightly, bulky” headphones, as they distastefully described them. 

Claire was told she was being ungrateful, a brat, and that vacationing somewhere else would be better for the family’s sake. So they dumped her away at a relatives house, one that she could barely recall the face of, if at all. She was discarded like a piece of trash, and it stung deeper than any piercing noise which rang through her ears. 

Therefore, in her eyes, Claire felt like she acted like a _“spoiled” _brat the entire summer. She spent the first week downright frightened by the chickens who chased her. Intimidated by the horses who’d loudly flare their nostrils, causing her to jump like a fish out of water. Sheep that would bleat so loud, she was convinced that her eardrums would burst.__

____

____

Every little sound terrified her, and every night she cried in her creaky old bed, yearning for the comforts of her old room, missing the vast, quiet mansion. Claire missed her kind, elder brother, who never once berated her sensitivity to noise and difficulties with unfamiliar environments. 

Until finally, after a couple days of quiet seclusion in the farm house, that timid girl learned to holler and chase the very same chickens who terrorized her back inside their respectively coops. Completely barefoot as well, her tiny toes ridden with mud and leaves. Something she was never allowed to do back home. It was all so thrilling. She neighed louder than a race horse ready to take home the prize, and learned to tame and ride the darling foals of her grandfather's farm. 

Last but not least, little Claire learned to love and cuddle the fluffy sheep that used to make loud, scary noises. All the animals, from the horses, chickens, cows and sheep loved her right back. 

His precious granddaughter’s newfound enjoyment warmed his heart, who previously debated sending her back to her parents later the following week. 

Now, that wouldn’t be necessary and even become a yearly visit. One they both looked forward to. He even bought her a pink pair of sound-canceling headphones whenever she needed them. As she grew older with each visit, so did her beloved grandfather; his spirit was young and roaring, but his body frail and weak after years of grueling, back breaking labor. Claire helped him until her parents forced her to continue her studies and duties back home. 

And Claire’s grandfather did what he loved till the very end. 

His death stunned her for weeks. Left her with grief stricken silence and indescribable guilt for not visiting the very same summer he had passed away. His funeral was private and brief, with only a few members of Mineral town attending and some selective family. 

As the years passed, Claire still had a rough time adjusting to his absence. However, she found herself positively smitten by the countryside from her childhood. After his death, Claire remembers the time spent at her late grandfather’s farm, and how it left a deep impression on her heart, one that continues to drive her ambitions well into adulthood. It’s time to make him proud of her, to show that she’s no longer afraid to push and challenge herself in the face of the unknown. 

Claire glances up towards the trees, noticing water trickle down the branches and directly onto her face with a tiny splash. Droplets glide off her cheek and she wipes the rest with the back of her hand as it begins to glisten. Residue of morning dew. mostly likely. The last of it as the weather was beginning to shift into a warmer season. In a way, the morning dew signifies a new beginning — the start of something new and foreign, beautiful and yet terrifying all the same. 

Morning dew.

_Dew._

Claire lets out a tiny gasp and claps. She dashes back toward the library before the excitement has a chance to fizzle out.

_That’s it._

“You found a name already? You’re absolutely sure?” Mary asks, crossing her arms with brutal skepticism. “Because I won’t let you sit here and stress yourself silly again.”

“Yes!” Claire, eager, clicks her pen around enthusiastically, repeatedly, until Mary gives in with a strained smile and flings the envelope on the desk, anything to make that incessant noise _stop._

Well at least she’s stopped chewing all her pens. It’s a start. 

“Okay, I believe you.” A chuckle parts from her pink lips. Mary rests her cheek against her smooth knuckles. “Well, this is the most excited i’ve seen you all week. You really must’ve found the name, huh?” She speaks, proceeding to take the papers out the manila envelope, spreading the important ones that needed signatures across the desk.

“Mhm!” Scanning through the long lines of dialogue, immediately she spots the naming section and seals the deal by writing in permanent ink the title of her brand new farm. That’s right, her farm. After reading through more boring legal obligations and whatnot, Claire finishes signing her chicken scratch signature everywhere, then seals the papers neatly back into the envelope. 

_Perfect._

“Done! Time to drop this off to the Mayor!”

“Hold on, aren’t you going to tell me the name?”

“Nope!” Claire beams, her smile white as snow. “That’s a secret! You’ll see it when the signs get updated.”

“Goodness,” Mary sighs, yet not a sign of irritation rests on her face as she watches her friend scurry off to the Mayor’s house.

Mayor Thomas was pleased and accepted the documents with absolute glee and endless praise. Their little town was growing in business, and Claire’s farm was a fine new addition to their small town. Now with an official name, she fit alongside everyone else and their businesses in Mineral town. 

That’s right, a place where _she_ belonged.

She giddies at the thought. 

Over the next few days, she personally oversees Gotts, Brandon, and Gray (the town's blacksmith) all work together to assemble her farm’s brand new sign. It was a lot of work, hefting all that oak wood, refining it, polishing it, adding finishing touches before finally switching out the sign all together. 

In a way, it was hard to see the old sign go. The same sign she would beam happily at whenever she visited during the summer, beloved memories of the past removed from her eyes. Yet strangely enough, it felt kind of liberating — no longer shackled by her grief. 

Somewhere, wherever his soul may rest, she knows her grandfather’s watching over her. That’s enough to put her worries to ease. 

Dawn creeps on them as Gotts and Brandon wipe off the sweat that permeates dark brows. Both men were both covered in thick layers of sawdust and fresh paint, a funny sight to behold, but she refrains from laughing. She couldn’t be more grateful for all their hard work over the past couple of days. 

Gray’s the last to join them as he climbs down the tall ladder. He tips his signature hat courteously at her. 

“All done hangin’ it up, Claire.”

“Yay!” Claire claps her hands together, cheerful as she pulls her fellow blond into a hug without thinking. 

“Thank you so much, Gray! You’re a lifesaver!”

Gray, although a bit taken back, briefly reciprocates the hug and shoots her a faint smile. 

“Anytime.” 

Everyone gathers in a small crowd and steps back to review all their hard work. Claire, at a loss for words, stares up in awe. She began to wonder if this was all a dream and questions if she's back loitering at her parent’s grand mansion, with no real goal in life. Her blue eyes sparkle like sapphires in the morning sun. The boys turned their heads and took note of her jubilant expression, it’s purity rivaling that of pure, ocean waves. It’s almost like there was no sign at all and that she was the sole center of attention. 

In silent unison, they all decide to draw their focus back on the decorated sign, feeling proudly accomplished to gain a reaction like that. 

Finely crafted by the best people in town, a grand sign, with big beautifully painted letters, read:

_“Dewdrop Farms”_

Her farm.

_It’s all hers._

Heat swells and prickles at her eyes without warning. Breathless, Claire raises a finger up to wipe away all and any stray tears that may threaten to fall. And they do, because this is a big moment in her life. One to be damn proud of. She’ll be able to accomplish so much more now that her farm’s officially seen as such. That’s right, this is only the beginning of her story. 

“This is …. amazing. T-Thank you, everyone!” 

“Come now, don’t start the sentimentalism so early in the morning.” 

Brandon pats a hand atop her hair, a teasing smile playing about his lips. Always with the antics, this one. 

She glares and swats his hand off, luckily it doesn’t sour her good mood.

“Thank you, Brandon, Gotts, Gray. I really do appreciate all the hard work you did.”

“Aw. Not a problem at all, dear. We’re just glad you like it.” Gotts says with a fuzzy smile.

“Likewise.” Gray replied, albeit more stoic.

“Well, me and Gotts have to retreat back to our cabin. We have more work to do. Call us if there’s any problems.” 

Claire nods wordlessly. She had their house number on the fridge along with a few others. Claire waves as the two depart from view. Gray’s the next to leave. 

“And I’ve gotta get back before my grandfather chews my head off for slackin’ on work.” Gray sighs, nudges her shoulder as he saunters on by. “Come by whenever, he’s less of an asshole when you’re around.”

“Oh, _go._ And be nice!” Claire gives him a playful shove him out the farm. Gray stifles a chuckle and bids her farewell. 

From the bottom of her heart, she loved Mineral Town and everyone in it.

Though everyone had already departed, Claire finds herself craning her neck up towards the sign, memorizing every detail, like a still frame in her mind. She didn't want to forget this moment ever, not for a single second. 

“Dewdrop farms?”

At the sound of a familiar voice, Claire whirls her head around and feels another smile blossom on her lips. 

“Cliff!”

She skips on over to him and Cliff blushes. Her face is just a little too close, only for a couple seconds, then she corrects herself and steps back accordingly with a sound giggle. 

“I — was out of town for a bit.” Foraging in the woods, chatting with Jennifer on occasion whenever the two crossed paths. Nothing special. “I didn’t know you already decided on a name. I-It looks great!”

Cliff smiles, truthfully happy for her, although there’s a faint tinge of disappointment lies hidden beneath his grin. He wished he could’ve been there to witness the grand reveal. 

“S-Sorry I missed the big reveal.” 

“Oh! Don’t worry. You’re one of the first residents to actually see it!”

He didn’t technically live here. Cliff didn’t have the heart to correct her, either. 

“O-Oh, I see.” He clears his throat, trying to ease the strain. Thankfully, she didn’t catch on.

“So you just got back?” She questions, pointing at the burlap sack hanging off his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I passed by your farm, to see if you were awake yet.”

Subconsciously, at that. It was out of his route to begin with, yet he couldn’t resist and gave in to temptation at the thought of meeting her again after several days without seeing her. 

“Would you like some breakfast? I have some leftover pancakes and freshly sliced fruit, grown by the lovely and infamous: dewdrop farms!” 

Free food, advertisement, and over-the-top head gestures to match. 

Cliff snorts so loud, his nose hurts. 

“You, uh, might wanna work on that.”

His tone is bubbly from restricted laughter. Claire, although not humored, doesn’t let his amusement kill her mood. 

“I gotta start advertising early! Really make a name on my brand, make it known! Just you wait! I’ll be an even better farmer than my grandfather was!” 

She jabs a finger straight into his chest and grins. It’s only been a few days and that fiery determination of hers, followed by that confident look in her eyes, struck at his heart just like cupid’s arrow once more. 

Nah, he’s reading too many fantasy books. Those are dangerous comparisons. 

His cheeks flush slightly as he adjusts the bag on his shoulder, following behind her like a baby duckling. “So it’s okay for me to come in?”

Claire lets out a dramatic groan, her hand gripped firmly on the door knob to her house. “From now until the end of time. Yes, you are welcome, Cliff!”

“That’s not what I meant.” His lips jut out in a weak pout. “I’m asking cause, well, been out in the woods a f-few days so i’m a little —”

All at once, a piggy-like sniffle and screech fill his ears. 

“ _AUGH!_ You stink!” She yelps, tightly pinching her nose shut and moving away several feet. 

“H-Hey! Harsh!” He childishly yells back at her. As if she didn’t work in manure saturated barns all day long. If anyone stinks here, it’s most definitely her! 

Any other snarky remarks he might’ve thought to say quickly die and fizzle out in the back of his throat when he recognizes what exactly she’s wielding in her hand.

“Claire?” 

Water spurts from the hose. A warning shot, no doubt. Cliff takes several steps back and shifts his hands up.

“Don’t you dare! _AH!_ ”

A short blast of water hits him, chills him to the bone and the urge to shout at her dissipates as she lowers her weapon. The sound of bubbly laughter hits his ears and he melts on the spot.

“Sorry! Just kidding, I wouldn’t really hose ya’ down.” 

Like a hawk, Cliff swoops in and steals the garden hose from her. Claire’s big blue eyes widen and she gasps aloud.

“No.”

She wouldn’t.

“CLIFF!” 

_But he would._

Claire runs away from him as lines of icy cold water shoot at her back. Her shrilling screams echo throughout the farm — obviously not the screams of terror as she milks them out to be, but squeals of joy. They’re having frivolous, pointless, fun. It’s a small town, so they might as well entertain themselves. Cliff’s laughter booms throughout the acres as he ruthlessly chases her around her own house in a seemingly-endless loop, having the time of his life, while Claire continues to run for the sake of hers. 

He keeps at it, until the cord finally runs short and violently tugs him backward, like a sailor gone overboard. And just like that Cliff tumbles down, right into the fresh mud all that water had created. 

It’s not long before Claire towers over his fallen form, her overalls soaking wet, yet still has the audacity to stand triumphantly over him, as if she had won anything. 

“Ha! Karma!” She blows a raspberry at him with her tongue.

_So childish._

Cliff laughs again, hard, as little tears kiss the corners of his eyes and his chest aches in joy. How long had it been since he fooled around and laughed like this? Completely guilt-free? No burdens on his mind?

He sits up halfway and picks stray leaves and twigs out of his brown hair. 

“Alright, I should head back to the inn for a proper shower.” 

“That’s right, go check back in with Ann. I’ll reheat the pancakes.” 

Claire smiles down at him, extending out her hand. He eyes her chipped fingernails caked in dirt and mud (and her day hadn’t even started) yet doesn’t feel a single twinge of guilt. They both needed that, he thinks. Her blond curls fall naturally down her shoulders in a beautiful, tangled mess — disorderly perfection. Her smile, radiant and welcoming, dissolves the cold from his bones and fills his core with rays of hot sunshine.

How in heaven’s name did he deserve somebody like her?

After lingering his gaze for longer than anticipated, Cliff accepts her hand and stands. Claire removed the rest of the debris from his tussled hair. He waves goodbye, then hurriedly heads towards the Inn to check in. Get washed up so he could have a nice breakfast and catch up with Claire.

The brunet smiles to himself as he walks, the fresh scent of morning dew tickling at his nostrils.

That’s right, Claire. 

His smile widens, cheeks pulsating with giddy. bubbling warmth as he does a little jog towards the inn. 

Claire; his first, _real_ friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE! Had a bit of writer's block but I'm really happy I finished! Decided to do a Claire centered chapter, and how sound sensitivity and her neurodivergent traits have impacted her life.


	7. Overnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is supposed to be Cliff checking in on a good friend, turns into something much more.

Festivities from today’s Spring Derby settle down as numerous people dine inside the Inn’s restaurant. Being one of the busiest days of the year they were completely booked for the night. Dim orange light floods in the room from the setting sun, creating a calming dining ambience as the sound of an old jukebox plays throughout the first floor. People, both from the other islands and residents from Mineral Town laugh and all eat their food merrily in perfect unison. 

Ann, looking worse for wear from the dinner rush, finds the chance to take a break and sit down for the first time in many hours.

Right across from Cliff. 

Knowing he’s in for it, he holds back the urge to roll his eyes. 

“You know, Cliff. You should just work here.” Ann shrugs, leaning forward against the table with a tired look in her blue eyes. She bats her lashes, as if to sweeten the deal. “You’d get free food and board, and then I wouldn’t be so busy and alone!”

“Doesn’t Doug help you out, though?” He eats a piece of cooked meat off his fork, not bothering to hide the disinterest on his face. Cliff sighs and wipes his chin with a napkin. “Besides, I’m no good at customer service.” His lack of a job still upsets him. “I’d just be making your job harder.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

He grumbles as she shoots him a cheeky grin.

They chat aimlessly back and forth over the sounds of random strangers. It goes on for a few minutes, until finally a familiar face walks through the door, looking around for a certain someone.

“Gray?” Ann stands from her chair at the sight of him, Cliff awkwardly stays, quietly swallows a small helping of his food. Cliff turns his head. This conversation wasn’t any of his business, and he’s barely spoken a word to Gray, Mineral Town’s blacksmith. Why would he?

He scurries past a few people on the floor and heads straight for Ann, worry smeared all over his usually stoic face. “Claire isn’t here?”

Bothered, Cliff puts down his utensils and listens a little more to their conversation.

“No, she’s not — Oh! What a pretty brooch, did you make it?” Ann points. There was a quaint jade brooch pinned onto his navy jacket. Could be new, maybe not, as he’s rarely seen Gray in his casual clothes. Even Cliff is taken back by his new-found appearance. It’s like he’s a completely different person with the jeans and t-shirt, no longer adorning his classic jumpsuit. That signature hat of his nowhere in sight, leaving his straight blond hair out in the open. 

Although, his dismissive attitude is still very much there. 

“Something like that. Doesn’t matter.” Gray mutters, nonchalantly brushing Ann’s nosy hand away from his chest. “Anyway, I’m worried about her. But, she’d just be upset if I went to see her — So can you?” 

“What did you do?” Ann glares accusatorily at him, hands propped on her hips. Her eyes icy and cold. Cliff feels the chill from his seat. Yet somehow Gray is unaffected, immune to the female “evil eye” and meets her accusations back with dry snark.

“What? Nothing. Who do you think I am?”

She crosses her arms. “A smartass.”

The blacksmith rolls his eyes, before a wobbly pout jots from his lips. An uneasy feeling settles in Cliff’s stomach, and he can tell it’s not from the food. 

“Well, something did happen. It’s complicated. That’s why I wanted to see if you’d check up on her?”

“Ugh, Gray.” Ann sighs wearily and rubs at her arm, beginning to feel uneasy herself. “Look, If you haven’t noticed I’m on my already severely short break and I’ve got my hands tied. I can’t go see her right now, maybe after closing?”

“Not good enough.” 

“Huh?!”

He’s curt on blatantly cutting her off mid-sentence, ignores her complaints as he walks past her, through her, all while heading directly towards Cliff’s side of the table. 

_Oh no._

No time to prepare. He blinks and Gray’s already there, his tall figure looming over him. Cliff clears the thick lump lodged in his throat. It’s still there, strains his voice into something feeble and small. He hates it so much.

“Um, H-Hello —” 

“You’re her friend, right? Go check on her.” He demands rather than asks. 

As if that’s the most simple thing in the world. He’s terrible at comforting others. Still, it’s Claire, and he’s willing to make an effort. 

“Well, what exactly happened at the derby?”

Gray falls silent. Cliff feels his insides churn in a disgusting, unsettling slush. Bile forms in his throat as Gray speaks. 

“She’s — She’s just not doing well. She may have left with a smile, but I sensed differently.” Gray earnestly meets his gaze. “Please, Cliff?” 

That’s the first time he’s ever been looked in the eye so sincerely, from a man he barely knows despite frequenting the same town. He’s shocked Gray even knows his damn name. 

Cliff pauses for a moment, before lifting his bag off the ground and over his shoulder.

“Okay, I'll check on her.” 

Gray nods, a little color returned to his face. “Thank you.” 

Once reaching an agreement, Ann tugs Gray by the arm, coercing him against his free will into helping her with the rest of the dinner rush. Cliff wastes no time making his way over to Claire’s farm.

The sounds from the Inn fade with the dwindling sunset. Rays of orange saturate the entire town in a lovely glow, buildings decorated lively for the occasion. Everyone came from all over just to see the Spring derby. Claire hadn’t mentioned it, nor asked him to accompany her. Though, that didn’t bother him. 

He figured it’s because crowds freaked him out and she was simply being considerate. As she always kindly strived to be. 

Maybe he should’ve asked to come? 

No. No use dwelling on what could’ve been. He has to focus on the present. 

After about a ten minute walk Cliff makes it to her house. Cows and chickens merrily walking about in the fields. Lovely green sprouts from the fields catch his eye. Seems the last rotation of her spring crops were coming in nicely. He can picture it now. Claire, proudly carrying a whole basket of turnips, bouncing around and going: _“Look, Cliff! Look what I grew!”_ Cliff chuckles at the thought. He’s already eager to try some of her fresh turnips and potatoes. Though, there were more important matters at hands.

He approaches her front door and rasps his knuckles gently against the newly-polished wood. 

Come to think of it, the outside is a lot cleaner too.

 _“Must have done a bit of remodeling”_ he ponders to himself, before knocking again. Twice, a third time, then worry knots tightly in his gut. 

“Claire?” He calls out, loud enough for her to hear. 

Chickens cluck in the distance. No response. 

Against his better judgement, feeling the knob loose, door deliberately unlocked, he twists it open.

“I-I’m coming in!” 

After announcing his presence, he enters the house. 

It’s adorably quaint and homey, just as he remembers it. There’s a vase full of fresh wild flowers, causing a lovely, floral scent to waft through the room. He notices her cat, Mitzy, soundly asleep in her pink bed by the unlit fireplace. A green flannel blanket is draped over the couch, while the television remains turned off. Only natural light filled the quiet room. 

All her animals were grazing outside. Therefore she had to be home or at least somewhere on the property. Cliff searched and she was nowhere outside. Making the house the last place to check before he’s ready to freak out and call the police to report a missing person. 

He walks past the tidy kitchen they had breakfast in just a few days prior. He remembers being starved, shoveling in as many pancakes as his mouth would allow. Table manners that Ann would scold him for; and Claire was right there, laughing right by his side, mirroring his horrible table manners. 

Now, she’s not here. Part of him aches. 

Going through her house while she was nowhere to be found felt wrong. Like breaking and entering. Except the door was already unlocked, open for anyone to just waltz on in — and that was cause for concern. 

Better him than a burglar. 

Which he is _not_ prepared to fight at all. 

Making his ways through the hall, Cliff stops and notices a room off to the right, the door creaked open. He’s seen her go in there before. No doubt about it. That was her bedroom. 

He tries to move his feet, take a little peek in her room but they’re cemented to the ground, binding him there. 

He’s practically paraded through almost all of her house already. So why is it different now?

Maybe because it’s not how he used to barge in his little sister’s room unannounced just to bug her. Claire isn’t like his sister.

Still, why do his knees turn to gelatin at the thought of entering her bedroom? 

Fed up with this stupid, inner conflict, Cliff slaps his flushed cheeks and lets out a soft grumble, forcing his wobbly legs to move. 

“Come on, be a man about it! You’re here to check on your friend!” He harshly whispers.

Quiet as a mouse, Cliff strolls down the corridor until he reaches his destination. Weakly, he glides and pushes his palm against the door, and he thanks the Goddess that it doesn’t creak like everything else in this old house.

Taking a little peak, he nudges his face and frame through the opening half-way.

The room is in a shabby-chic style, with an interesting mix of farmhouse décor. Shelves are littered with various Knick-knacks and other little tchotchkes. Presents and keepsakes from her late grandfather no doubt. The walls are a subtle shade of cream, pastel and stainless wallpaper with many picture frames hung up. 

Many are paintings of cartoon-like farm animals, others seem to be old family photographs. Most of them are of a little girl (who he suspects to be a young Claire) and then a slightly older boy. They’re side-by-side, hugging each other lovingly with matching blue eyes. In the next photo, there’s an old man and a little girl holding baby chicklets together, which is undeniably Claire and her beloved grandfather. 

So then who's that blond boy in the photograph?

Curiosity tugs at the back of his wandering mind, but he keeps it at bay — it’s not his place. Cliff takes a step in further, then stops hearing a dreadful noise. His shoes. His breath hitches violently in his throat as his boots creak loudly underneath the hardwood floor, prompting him to be stiff as a statue. 

_Curse this old house._

His gaze, already fearful, strays down towards the middle of the room, centering on the bed. There’s a plaid green comforter fit neatly on the mattress. Lots of fluffy, white pillows that look soft to the touch. He forces back a yawn. His lack of sleep is starting to catch up with him. 

Then, smack dab in the middle there lies — 

“Claire?” He mouths her name.

So she was at home. Good.

All it takes is one glance over to tell that she’s fast asleep. She’s wearing her favorite pink hoodie, one he’s seen her adorn many times before, same for a normal pair of gray shorts. She has one sock on, one off as her long, otherwise bare legs stick out in the open. Her chest raises up and down slowly as she sleeps, eyes shut peacefully from the world, her arms sprawled out while one protectively drapes over an adorable, stuffed animal. A strawberry cow, to be exact.

Cliff lets loose a smile, captivated by the sight.

_Cute._

_Wait, what?!_

A fuzzy feeling settles in stomach. Hot shades of pink rush to cheeks. Cliff turns away from her and slaps at his cheeks again, trying to snap himself out of ... whatever it is he's currently feeling right now. 

No, the stuffed cow was cute. That’s all. 

Well... she seemed to be okay. Had to be if she’s having taking a nap. Although, he’ll lecture her about locking the door later. Just because it’s a small town, doesn’t mean trouble can’t arise. 

Just as he goes to leave (pretend that this whole scandalous encounter never happened) the sound of her body shifting and turning causes him to freeze. Her voice, barely above a whisper, causes the tips of his ears to flush red. 

”Don’t go…”

Every part of his body goes numb. He can’t breath. It’s like she stole all the air right out his lungs. 

“Please… _don’t go…_ ” 

Reluctantly, Cliff turns his head and finds himself surprised to see that she is intact, still out cold. Who talks so vividly in their sleep? His clammy hands tighten into fists. His mind screams at him to just leave, forget that this ever happened. And yet, his heart compels him to inch close, give in to her unconscious request. 

He listens to which he thinks is right.

Cliff heads for the door and gently clicks it shut behind him.

About fifteen minutes later, after a power-struggle to herd all her animals back into their respective coops and barns, he's returned. Fresh scratches layer all over his arms and face (thanks to some bratty poultry) and every part of him ached right down to the bone. The gut area hurts the worst. Hands reach up to his scalp for a well-needed brushing, shaking and removing pieces of stray from his unruly hair. He safely tucks his dirty boots by the front door (which is now _responsibly_ locked) and tiredly trots his way back over to her bedroom. 

The brunet’s chest heaves up and down as a strained wheeze dries his throat. How on earth does she manage to do that every single day? Taking the time to slow his breathing to a peaceful, more steady rhythm, Cliff cautiously enters the bedroom and takes a peek inside. 

Good. She’s still asleep. 

Quietly as he can manage Cliff kneels by her bedside. Propping himself upright on the bed with his elbows. Letting out a sigh he lets them slack, eases his chin against his arms and watches her sleep in tranquil respite. Now that he’s closer, there are warning signs he didn’t notice before at first glance. While closed and while appearing peaceful, her eyes are puffy and sullied with old tear streaks. Her face, while mostly still, scrunches up from time to time to clear discomfort, as if haunted by bad dreams. 

Did she cry herself to sleep? 

His heart breaks at the thought. 

In the midst of the evening silence, his mind wanders aimlessly, begins to race as teeth gnaw at the inside of his cheek. What happened at the Spring Derby to make her so sad? He doubts losing a bet, high stakes or not, would make anyone _this_ miserable. 

Cliff, with eyes half-lidded, studies her sleeping visage. It’s weary and still; an image that’s sure to occupy his mind for time to come. There’s still so much he has yet to know about her. They were friends, yet in reality, were total strangers to one another. Cliff didn’t know Claire even existed till the very beginning of this month. 

And already he’s willing to risk so much, just for her sake.

Maybe, it’s because he has no else left in his life. Maybe that’s the reason why Cliff yearns to know what makes her happy. What makes her smile, what makes her tick. He wants to personally experience each and every emotion that dances across her innocent, freckled face. Selfish as it seems he wants to be there. To take it all in, all her internal struggles, all the pain a person shields from prying eyes. Be the panacea that heals their fragile selves from living in a ruthless, yet beautiful world...

His body shudders from exhaustion, paying the toll from all that labor he did prior. How she manages to run an entire farm by herself, without any sort of outside help, is beyond him. Cliff shivers, his breathing now softer with each lazed inhale. Sleep was tempting, and he struggled fighting against it’s beckon call.

“N-No…” 

Stubbornly, Cliff forces his heavy eyelids open one last time to get a good look at her, as if to confirm all of this is actually real. How many people would he go this far for? When he tries to list names. Pictures, faces, only she comes to mind. It’s only been a few weeks, but Claire means a great deal to him. He lets a finger ghost up against her tepid cheek, letting it fall, before finally succumbing to fatigue.. 

By the time he stirs to, the sky’s already gone dark. Dusk fell faster than he originally thought it would, along with the passage of time. He wakes up disoriented and —

On Claire’s bed.

“Shit.”

He fell asleep on the edge of Claire’s bed.

Cliff groans, burying his face against her mattress. Talk about irresponsible. At least she wasn’t awake to see him like this, in her room, without any permission whatsoever. That would be a big problem.

A drowsy yawn spills from his lips. He blinks his eyes a couple of times to adjust his vision. As moonlight fills the room, he’s able to make out a pair of soft, ocean blue eyes, looking right back at him. Oddly familiar. Then it hits him, like a pile of bricks.

Those are Claire’s eyes.

Wordlessly she stares at him. Her eyes are watery, unsteady like sea waves recovering after a fierce storm. Through sheer willpower alone, not a single tear spills. Her arms are clenched right around her plush which covers most of her face.

As Cliff struggles to find the words, or air in his lungs for that matter, he sweats. Caught red-handed, like a deer frozen in the headlights. 

It all goes black. His eyes winched shut, afraid — ashamed to properly face her. No, he can’t be this way forever.

He composes himself and finds the courage to open his eyes and peer back at her.

Claire, favoring silence, props her chin atop the plush cow’s head and leaves it there. The moon hits her cheeks, seemingly illuminating and enchanting her features. Light bounces off her freckles, makes them shine like stars on the darkest night, breaking through with serene light.

Once again, he finds it hard to breathe.

“Did … you put my animals away?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Her tone is oddly calm given the situation. Cliff’s not sure if it comforts or frightens him. 

“Um, y-yeah.” He coughs, straightening his posture while he remains kneeled by her bedside. His hands are drenched in sweat. His tongue sits in his mouth like heavy stone as he tries to fabricate a good enough excuse to why he’s here, in her bedroom (again, without permission.)

“I’m sorry I meant to w-wake you — b-but then I fell asleep, cause herding animals w-without knowing h-how is a lot of work _and_ — “

“Thank you.”

He almost doesn’t hear her or the sad lilt in her voice. _Almost._

She’s the first to pry her gaze away from his. Cliff can’t find the heart to reciprocate the act. He thought she’d simply sleep whatever horrible feeling she had off, and wake up feeling better. Although, things don’t always go according to plan.

Claire, slightly out-of-it, raises from her bed like a corpse out a coffin. She looks worse for wear, horrible and tuckered-out, despite being asleep for a good portion of the night. 

Crying your eyes out all alone, with no one to comfort you, will do that to a person. 

Not… that he knows from experience. 

“I — I need to f-feed Mitzy.” Out of sorts, she tries to stand, only for her body to ragdoll and clumsily wobble into his. Cliff stops her in the nick of time by catching her. Steadily, he guides his friend back down to the bed by the shoulders. The gentlest he’s been — and probably will ever be. 

Claire makes him soft, _too soft._

“No It’s … It’s okay,” he reassures, gingerly patting the crown of her head with his hand. Why? He’s unsure. He hasn’t the faintest clue. He just wanted her to feel at ease. To be a dependable person for once in his life. “I already did. I just let you sleep. You seemed like you needed it.”

Claire stares back at him, too tired to combat with him, and lets out a sigh. The most defeated one he’s ever heard. Hearing it makes his throat tightens like a vice, heart lurched in his throat, burning fiercely. 

_Why does it hurt?_

“Claire,” he remains kneeled by her bedside, posture arched forward. His hands gently fall to her arms and stay there. Eyes lock concerningly onto hers. The brown hue of his eyes burn right into hers, kindling with worry. It’s eating at him. He _has_ to know. “What happened at the derby?”

Claire, now fully awake, forms her legs in a crisscross position and hugs onto her favorite cow plush, clinging to it like it’s her lifeline. It takes her time to find the words. Cliff doesn’t rush her and instead waits, bearing the patience of a saint.

How’d she land a friend like this?

Technically, she doesn’t have to tell him the truth. She can brush this under the rug and continue to bury this horrible feeling deeper inside her. Let it ruminate, eat her alive by the marrow of her bones, just as she’s done many times before when there was no one there to comfort her.

But, for some reason, lying to Cliff felt worse than neglecting all her responsibilities. 

Claire still feels guilty for that.

_So much guilt._

“Gray, _h-he_ —” Before she can finish that sentence, her face smacks down into her stuffed animal, which takes in the full brunt of her tears. Cliff’s hands grip her shoulders, as if he’s able to stop her from crumbling down like old marble. Still, he tries his best. Every word she tries to force out sounds muffled. Luckily, he can make out the more important bits.

“H-He can’t go to the Derby for the rest of the year… b-because of me. It’s all my fault.” 

Cliff frowns.

“What do you mean? He’s… banned?”

“W-Well, not “technically” banned.” Claire’s bottom lip sticks out in a shaky pout, her voice tuning smaller, feeble as she reluctantly raises her head and faces him, trying her best to speak coherently. “But his g-grandfather isn’t happy because he … he p-punched someone from out of town.” 

“What? Then it’s not your fault. It’s his.” He speaks, just a little too matter-a-fact for comfort. He needs to work on that. Swallowing away the tension in his throat, a sheepish smile breaks through his stern demeanor. “I mean, I-I don’t … really know him all that well, but he seems like a temperamental guy? So you can’t blame yourself for that.”

“But it is my fault! He punched that person b-because of me!”

Claire shakes her head and sniffles harshly, her nose Rudolph-red, running fiercer than a faucet. She tries to explain further, give more of the story, but is overwhelmed by her own emotions. 

Cliff is also overwhelmed.

“G-God. No, C-Claire please don’t cry, _uh_ — ”

As if the room’s in a fiery blaze, Cliff looks around frantically for a tissue box. He spots one on the dresser. Jumping to his feet, he begins messily unfurling multiple scraps of tissues and hands her nearly half a box full.

“Here! B-Blow into this!” He panics and, without thinking, shoves a tissue right into her nose. His fingers unknowingly pinched on the bridge. Her cheeks seem to flush redder than before. 

_And this is why you have no friends._

Claire squeaks into the tissue, not expecting him at all to do that. Because what sane person on this earth would? Her bright blue eyes, raw from crying, stare at him as if he’s gone crazy. Maybe he has. He hasn’t the slightest clue what he’s supposed to be doing by “checking” on her, on a friend. 

“C-Cliff..” She whines, her nasally voice muffled by the paper. “I c-can hold it myself, y-you know. ”

“I...I knew that.”

Cliff drops his hand, to which Claire picks up from where he left off and she clears out her runny nose. She disposes of the used tissues out in the trash bin near her bed.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m just … n-not used to anyone crying, so I tend to freak out and I-I — ”

Claire smiles at him and all his worries seem to melt away, like winter snow embracing the sun.

“No … It’s okay. I’m not mad.” She perks up a little bit, lowering her plush and reaching to place her hand atop his. Static swirls where her touch lies, feathery and light, like an angel's kiss. It leaves him breathless. A wildfire of heat pools in his cheeks and dyes the tips of his ears red. She speaks, like it's the most soothing sound in the world.

“I mean it. You’re really sweet. And a good friend.”

Their hands linger until she consciously pulls hers back, the warmth of her small hand gone, just like that. Cliff sighs, ignores the incessant pounding of his heart, and attempts to get them back on track. 

“I don’t think Gray would’ve hit someone without some reason.” He pauses mid-sentence, trying to find the right words for such a delicate conversation. “Especially … if it was for your sake and overall safety.”

Now, he deeply regrets not asking to go with her.

“Still I’m sorry that … that really sucks.”

It only happens like what, once? Twice a year? And people just have to ruin fun events like these for others? People are selfish. That’s one good reason to keep himself distanced from others. 

Torn from his thoughts, Cliff groans and presses a hand underneath his shirt, splotches of black and blue melding in with the darkness. That’s not enough to hide from her keen eye. 

“Cliff!!” She tugs at his shirt without warning, making him nearly stumble backward. 

“Wh-What?”

“Your tunic’s all dirty! And your face it’s...” Her voice trails off in realization. “Did … Did you fall and hurt yourself in the barn?”

His signature yellow tunic was indeed caked in residues of dried mud, along with slivers of stray. Cliff learned the hard way that her foal didn’t take too kindly to anyone other than Claire. One thing led to another, and next thing he knew? He takes a full-on kick straight to the chest. Launched back-first into bales of perfectly stacked hay (not anymore.) He lies there, paralyzed for a few solid minutes until he could find the will to stand again and struggle to return the foal to it’s pen.

It was only a few hours ago, yet the pain is still so raw. 

“Oh? That? ” He laughs, dry and forced, trying to play it off. “I’m just a little beat up. D-Don’t worry about it.”

He can try and lie all he wants. But she sees how there’s a slight wince in his expression, how his scraped hand nonchalantly strays from his side to rub at his wounded ribs (which she prays aren’t bruised or worse.)

This time Claire’s able to stand on her own two feet, her strength finally starting to return. No longer pale, healthy color returns to her face, along with a scary scowl to match. 

Wait, what?

“Go on the couch.”

Cliff tilts his head.

“...Huh?”

“I said go rest on the couch. You’re hurt!”

Before Cliff can respond, Claire’s hands are pressed against his back, violently shoving him forward out of the room and _Christ!_ Has he gone weak or does she have superhuman strength!?

After a ton of bickering and trying to fight off a woman shorter than him, Cliff finds himself defeated and stuck on the couch.

Cliff huffs. He isn’t comfortable at all. Well, at least someone is over the moon that he’s staying overnight. Delightful purrs settle in his ears, paws kneading against his thighs while Mitzy settles in, cuddling up on his legs. He scratches behind her fluffy ears as she purrs some more.

Maybe it’s not all that bad.

The same green flannel he saw previously on the couch is now being put to good use, covering up all of his waist and legs. The living room is lit adequately, curtains drawn so the light doesn’t attract possible unwanted attention. 

Now lying back with his hands over his chest, he can hear Claire fumbling around the hallway broom closet for a medical kit. 

“Found it!” She smiles and walks over to the couch. This time she’s no longer in her casual clothes, instead wearing a baggy nightshirt and some pink pajama shorts. She places the first-aid box atop the coffee table and snaps the lid open, looking over its contents while spreading them out for a better view. 

He’ll give her one thing; she comes prepared. The kit’s fully stocked to the brim. Full of bandages, cloth, heat packs, sprays, and other things that make his stomach more and more queasy by the second the longer he stares. Cliff grumbles, whirling his head in the other direction. 

How on earth did he get in this mess?

“Really, Claire. I’m fine you d-don’t need to be doing this— ”

A sudden chill hits his skin, prompting him to look down. He sees how his top is lifted up about halfway. Then, there are Claire’s fingers, which are splayed against his chest, lightly pressing down on his skin. 

Claire’s hand is on his bare chest.

Claire’s fingers, the same ones which are delicately accessing the extent of his bruises, getting closer to his stomach, are _touching_ him.

 _Claire is_ —

No doubt waking up every animal on the premises, Cliff shrieks and jolts upward, pulling the blanket up all the way to his chest as if he weren’t decent. Mitzy's claws dig in his legs as she jolts off the couch, going to hide elsewhere. He fumbles around trying to tug his tunic back down into place. 

“Wh-What do you think you’re doing!?”

Claire blinks and lowers her med-kit. Looks at him like he’s got a screw or two loose. _The feeling’s mutual._

“What do you think? I’m treating you!”

“Y-You’re not a doctor!”

Or a _male one_ for that matter! 

Claire rolls her eyes, moving her hand to lift his tunic up once again like it’s nothing. Cliff recoils and swats her hand until it’s safely out of sight.

“And d-don’t do that so casually!”

Not letting out so much as a single yelp she stares him dead in the eye (as if to challenge him) and smacks the top of his hand back — _hard._ Yeah, it hurt, but he won’t let it show and settles for the classic, dirty look at his stubborn friend.

“You’re the one being so weird about it!”

The bickering goes on and on, back and forth, endlessly until they both come to a reasonable conclusion 

Claire heads over to her list of numbers on the fridge, then goes to make a special phone call.

“Alright, good news and bad.” Cliff winches as Elly’s gloved hand leaves his now bandaged chest. “I won’t lie, you’re banged up pretty badly, but thankfully you haven’t broken anything and there’s no signs of internal bleeding. 

“R-Right.”

“You’re lucky it’s just a foal’s kick. If it was an adult horse then you’d be in the hospital.”

Elly removes her gloves and fiddles around in a black bag with a medical insignia imprinted on it. From the clinic no doubt. Cliff catches her pull something out of it from the corner of his eye. 

An ice cold chill runs over his chest, goosebumps trail his skin as his body shivers. Then, it began to feel nice. Cliff shuts his eyes, and breathes out easy for the first time tonight. Elly’s voice speaks out to him once more.

“Keep applying this ice pack and repeat several times as needed. It’ll speed up the healing and make you more comfortable.”

Claire, who’s been fidgeting quietly behind Elly this whole time takes a step forward and speaks up for what felt like the first time in ages. Out of character for a chatterbox like herself. 

“I’m sorry… I… I know I should’ve called Dr. Trent and n-not you, _but_ — ”

“Oh, shush. It’s fine.” Elly closes her bag and stands. Despite being called at a rather late hour, she didn’t seem bothered whatsoever. “This wasn’t hard to treat at all. Plus, he wanted a “medical professional” right?” The short-haired brunette, with a teasing glint in eye, glances at him one last time. “Really, Claire could’ve done all of this herself without a problem.”

He doesn’t have to look to know _that._ Cliff grumbles, then turns his head on the other side of the pillow.

“No, I-I should’ve called you from the start to make sure that he was truly okay.”

“And everything is okay.” She reiterates, briefly holding her friend’s hands in her own until she felt Claire was properly reassured. Elly gathers the rest of her things and heads for the door. 

“He just needs to rest tonight and he’ll be able to return to the Inn tomorrow.” She flashes another smile towards them both. “Good night, you two.” Bidding farewell, Claire gently shuts the door behind her.

So he is staying the night.

Cliff reopens his eyes and takes in a deep, strained breath.

_Great._

With just the two of them again, Claire heads over to the light switches. She dimmed the lights. Enough for them to see, but not enough to encapsulate the living room in bright light. Moving over to the couch Claire readjusts the blanket over Cliff’s legs, assuring his overall comfort. The moment Elly left Mitzy was back curled on his lap, content as a lamb soaking in the sun. He smiles and pets her. That doesn’t distract him for long, though, as his attention quickly draws back to Claire. 

All he can do is watch her scurry around, doing what appears to be numerous minimal tasks at once in an attempt to keep herself calm.

Cliff watches as she grabs his dirty tunic draping off the couch and heads towards what he believes is a small laundry room. Normally, he would detest and say to just leave it. That he can clean it later himself. He knows there’s no stopping her, though. The best course of action would be to try and get some sleep, leave the following tomorrow morning, and be at peace knowing his friend’s okay.

Call him a skeptic, but he’s not so convinced of that anymore.

“Claire?” He waits till she looks up at him. “You know this isn’t your fault, right?”

“I know...”

Cliff raises his brow. “...Do you?”

“Well, if I wasn’t crying over something that wasn’t my fault to begin with, then you wouldn’t be here. So, yes, as of right now it _is_ all my fault.”

Why is she so hard on herself?

Cliff huffs, grinding down on his teeth as he forces himself to sit upward. Claire, already fussing for him to stay put and rest tries to settle him back down. But he refuses, determined to get his point across.

“Did you kick me in the chest?”

“No… B-But!”

“Then this isn’t your fault.” 

Cliff remarks, before sagging back down onto the sofa, mumbling out a blissful sigh. The pain killers were finally starting to kick in, numbing the horrid pain in his sore chest and stiffened shoulders. It still hurts to move, though not as bad as before. 

“Besides, I should’ve known better than to approach a horse from behind.”

It’s silent until Claire’s voice breaks through the thick fog of tension.

“Still, I feel responsible.” She states, tucking a blond strand behind her ear. “I’ll be up for a while, catching up on some of the work I missed. So, if you need anything, _anything at all,_ just call for me. Okay?”

On that note, Claire makes sure to move his rucksack closer to him. Along with the remote, if he fancied a little television before bed. Sure, they got on each other’s nerves at times, occasionally clashed due to their differing personalities. But, that’s normal apparently among friends. Even on the off chance when they’re bickering, it’s never a dull moment. She keeps him on his toes. It's good for him.

He’s lost track over how many times this thought continuously comes to mind. Regardless, Cliff questions how he managed to land a person like Claire in his life. Kind and considerate, she picks herself off from the ground just to help others. It’s admirable, selfless, he wants to be more like her. 

“Claire, really you … you don’t have to do all this.” Cliff mutters, craning his face away from hers. Gentle as can be, her hand brushes against his cheek, warm to touch. It leaves him breathless, defenseless even as his brown eyes intently focus on nothing but the person in front of him.

“Cliff.” Like a planet’s pull he gravitates towards her, silent as she adorns the prettiest smile he’s seen to date. Her blue eyes sparkle in the dim light.

“I want to.”

Her fingers thread through his unruly, brown locks, pushing his bangs back all the way to his forehead. Letting his bangs fall naturally, she giggles and ruffles his hair affectionately, before retracting her hand from his flushed face. It could be all the pain killers he’s currently on that are influencing his emotions, _but her touch is so addictive._ She could play with his hair all night, for as long as she wanted, and he wouldn’t question it for a minute. He almost whimpers, feeling her calming touch fade. He holds it back and forces himself to stay awake, keeping his tired eyes fixated on her. 

Claire’s smile stays as she shifts to grab hold of the remote, turning the television on and keeping the volume nice and low. She places it back on the corner table, easy for him to reach. 

“Now relax and get try to get some rest, okay?”

Right, _sleep._

Cliff lazily watches as she skips off barefoot, disappearing into her bedroom to work on whatever. Once out of sight, he swings an arm over his tired eyes and groans. Despite the ice pack numbing his wounds, heat prickles all over his face and skin. He's never felt this way before.

Her words from mere moments ago echo loudly in his head.

_"Try and get some rest, okay?"_

Rest, huh?

Her lovely, enchanting smile flashes in his mind. The way she tenderly spoke his name, lingers persistently in his thoughts. Even with his eyes tightly closed, surrounded by pitch darkness it's irrefutable. _She’s still right there._

Cliff curses under his breath and clutches onto his blanket. 

Sleep? Yeah, right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried my hand at a longer chapter this time! Took some time to get just right, but overall? I'm pretty happy with it. Enjoy! If you're curious as to what exactly went down at the Spring Derby I wrote a bonus chapter which can be read [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27468202)


	8. The Winery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on a walk with Gray, Cliff runs into the town's two business owners, Duke and Manna. He begins to learn more about them.

Cliff awakens the next morning feeling under the weather. Every part of his body, from top to bottom aches in dull pain. Getting clawed by chickens and brutally kicked by a horse will do that to a person. Yet another reminder of the whole barn debacle. Operation: _“Cliff successfully herds all the animals!”_ blew up in flames, right in his face, leaving him with bruised skin and an equally wounded spirit to match. Never again will he attempt to herd a bunch of bratty, ungrateful animals into their pens all by his lone-self. 

Sunlight pokes out softly through the curtains. Cliff, yawning heartily, rubs at his closed eyes, waiting for them to adjust naturally to the light. It’s pretty early, that much he can tell. Claire’s either still fast asleep in her bedroom or attending to work outside. Squinting down he notices Mitzy purring contently on his lap, the very same spot she proudly claimed for herself last night. He can’t remember the last time he slept with a pet by his side. 

Or spent the night in someone else’s house.

Cliff gently nudges the calico cat off his lap and stands to stretch out his poor, sore muscles. 

For once, Cliff fell asleep ridiculously fast last night, as if his insomnia wasn’t an underlying problem. The night before was mostly a blur. He couldn’t remember what was on the television when he was just starting to doze off. Though, he does remember Claire coming in every now and then to watch a program or two, occasionally checking in on him while he attempted to sleep off all the pain racking throughout his entire body.

Speaking of, What time did she go back to bed? Hopefully, she managed to get a few more hours of sleep.

Scratching at his bare stomach, his fingernails lightly graze the area where his bruises lay, an ugly array of black and blue. Cliff flinches and pauses, forgetting just how tender and fresh the wound still is. Feeling cold, he shivers, yearning for the top part of his clothes. Taking a quick gander around the house, he immediately spots his favorite tunic atop the kitchen table, already washed and folded neatly with delicate care. It looked cleaner and vibrant in color than it did before. 

There’s a post-it note with his name written in sloppy cursive on it lying on top, accompanied by an adorably smiley face doodle. How sweet. 

The kind sentiment (so warmly familiar from the days of his past) colors his cheeks pink. 

Unfolding it, Cliff brings his purple shirt over head and slowly eases into it. Then, comes the tunic itself. He adjusts the sash and ties it a bit looser this time, considering his whole stomach area is sensitive to the touch. Within a few days those pesky bruises should fade and he’ll be back in tip-top shape. 

He’s pried from his thoughts at the sound of the door creaking wide open. Claire enters, her beautiful, long blond hair tied up in a ponytail. She’s wearing her regular farming attire. Although, this time she wears a pink plaid shirt underneath her denim overalls. Little spots of dirt layer over her freckled cheeks, no doubt from another grueling morning of farm work. Yet, she’s as radiant as ever, ready to do so much more. Claire always goes above and beyond in whatever she does. 

For some reason, his heart thumps wildly at the sight of her.

Claire spots him standing there awkwardly, just looking at her, and yet her signature smile surfaces, brightening the whole room like sunshine itself. 

“Cliff! Good, you’re awake. How do you feel?”

Cliff blushes, looking down at the floor. Why was he so shy all of sudden?

“Um, s-still sore but better.”

Cliff didn’t want to worry, nor trouble her more than he already has. Plus, that wasn’t a lie. He’s doing much better compared to yesterday. 

“Say, do you mind coming outside for a moment?”

Cliff tilts his head and looks puzzled at her. Her grin’s still there, not budging an inch, suggesting that the request isn’t an odd one. _Hm…_

“Um, sure.”

Claire nods and hurries out first. Not wanting to keep her waiting, Cliff slips on his boots. Just as he sticks his head out the door, Cliff immediately takes several frightened steps backward. All the color wipes from his face, as if he stared down a ghost straight in the eyes and took a tango with death.

_“Gah!”_

Two beady, seemingly innocent eyes stare questioningly at him. Cliff, on the other hand, isn’t trusting whatsoever. At the sight of them, all his wounds hurt as if inflicted a second time. The brunet grumbles, stubbornly staying inside the sanctuary of the farmhouse as Claire pouts at them both.

“Oh, come on Cliff… She came all this way to apologize!”

The foal neighs, eagerly stepping in place while Claire giggles and calms her down. A chill trails down his spine. 

“Or to deliver the finishing blow.”

Claire holds back laughter (not sure what’s so funny — he’s dead serious) while her hand lovingly pats the side of her trusty steed. Her brown mane is freshly wet, no doubt from a morning bath and good brushing session. Claire takes amazing care of all her animals. No wonder they’re only trusting of her. 

“Didn’t a certain someone admit that _he_ was in the wrong? That one should _never_ approach a horse from behind?”

Cliff groans. Yeah, he did say something along those lines. Still, this was way too soon. He’s not even healed for goddess’s sake! Rubbing at the nape of his neck, against his better judgement he steps outside the house and onto the damp pathway, only a few feet away from his attacker. The little horse stays put, surprisingly obedient this time around. Like a completely different horse when her owner’s present. 

Building up the courage, Cliff extends his hand out about half-way (the urge to chicken out strong) until Claire helps him out the rest of the way, guiding their hands together as one. If not so focused on the horse, he would’ve undoubtedly flipped out at the sudden physical contact. 

Or maybe, he’s gradually getting used to her touching him so casually.

“Here, girl. This is Cliff! He’s my good friend, so no more kicking okay?”

The horse looks at them both, before affectionately bucking her head into the palm of Cliff’s hand. Cliff, wide-eye in awe, steadily warms up to the little foal before him. She was actually kind of cute…

“Hey! S-She likes me!” Cliff laughs aloud, his enthusiasm up to the roof as both hands gently glide and pap against the foal’s wet sides. His dark blue eyes sparkle in the morning sun as her little horse nickers at the touch, happy to be receiving attention from another. 

Claire, over the moon, gleefully claps her hands together. Success!

“See! You do have a way with animals.” She giggles.

“I guess so,” he mumbles, chuckling as the mare flares her nostrils, hot air tickling at his sides. Horses were like big dogs, if he had to make a comparison. Which only makes his fondness for the animals grow. 

“While she runs around for the day, you want me to make you some breakfast?”

Cliff smiles, then politely declines. “No, that’s alright. I should be heading back to the inn. I'll eat when I get there.” Besides, he reeks like a barn (quite literally) and wanted to wash off the woes of yesterday evening. 

“Aw, alright.” Claire nods back at him, appearing disappointed that he couldn’t stay around just a little while longer — although, she fully understands his reasons. 

“I did call Ann last night while you were asleep and explained what happened.” She fidgets around with her fingers. “You know, to spare you the trouble.” 

“You didn’t have too.” He insists, but the relief on his face says otherwise. Claire chuckles.

“Not a problem! Come by again when you’re feeling better, okay?”

“Will do, Thank you.” His lips shift in a casual smile, an expression full of fondness, maybe even a hint of adoration. Claire smiles the exact same way back at him. It makes his heart flutter. As he goes to depart, a familiar face by the gate catches the pair’s attention. Both of them speak at the same time. 

“Gray?”

“Hey.” The blond tips his classic “UMA” hat in greeting, subsequently unlocking and closing the wooden gate behind him.

Claire offers a friendly smile, the same one she gives all her friends, albeit there’s a noticeable wobble to her lips. No doubt she remains guilty for what went down the other day. Cliff silently notes how her smile goes down several notches in liveliness with utmost subtleness. 

Dense as he is, somehow, he still caught on and gazed over her way in obvious concern. 

“Hey! What are you doing here so early?” Claire moves to Gray’s side, away from him. Cliff frowns. 

“Well, for one I’ve got your backorder here from the other day. And two,” After handing Claire her sack of newly upgraded tools, he then gestures over to Cliff. “I was gonna walk this guy back to the Inn, as requested by Ann.” 

Cliff blinks. This is news to him.

Claire gasps. Apparently, this is news to her too. “Wait, was she that worried? Really, I s-said that he was fine! Just a little roughed up!” 

“Relax, Claire. I know he’s “fragile”, but I ain’t gonna break the guy.” Gray smirks. Cliff, taken back by his words, makes a face. He fails to find the remark “cute” or “funny” in the slightest coming from his mouth. Claire, now self-conscious for whatever words she may have said in passing, apologetically looks over his way. 

“Th-That’s not what I — ”

“It’s fine.” Cliff reassures, then swings his heavy rucksack over his shoulder with a minor wince.

Not like it was a lie.

“Me and Cliff are right as rain. No need to worry about us.”

Gray, now standing right by Cliff, pats his shoulder with a gloved hand as if to prove his point. The brunet bumps his hand off and glares, to which the other hides his cheeky grin.

Cliff knows he doesn’t have to walk with him. He has a feeling Ann didn’t send him at all. Why would she? Though, he would like some more information as to what really happened yesterday, since Claire seemed to be holding back a few key details. This could be a chance to learn more. 

“Alright… let’s get going then.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Cliff?” Claire’s voice, abnormally meek, prompts him to turn around. He wasn’t offended by her words at all. He’s convinced that was all plotted on Gray’s end. Therefore, he flashes that same, loving smile given to her moments earlier. 

“I’ll see ya around, okay?”

It’s amazing — how all her worries seemingly melt away with that one, simple grin. As they say, smiles go for miles. She’s a firm believer of that saying now. Claire sends the both of them off with best wishes, before peppily resuming her farming duties. 

There’s a light drizzle outside as the two walk. The air is damp, chilly, and while it felt heavenly against his sore skin, there were more important matters at hand than enjoying a stroll through a little light rain. Before he can speak up, take the initiative, Gray swiftly beats him to the punch. 

“So… you smile like that at everyone?”

Cliff stares. 

“Huh?”

“You’re not deaf. You heard me.”

Not interested in whatever he was trying to get at, Cliff blows some loose hair out of his face and looks the other way. He decides on a “normal” enough response. “I smile at people.”

“Kinda hard to tell, you always look down whenever ya speak to somebody that isn’t Claire or Ann.” 

And who the hell is he to talk? He does the same damn thing! 

“Though…” The blacksmith looks up and adjusts his hat back, taking a gander at the cloudy sky above them. Sincerity gleams in his cold eyes. “Not so much anymore. You’ve changed.”

Cliff pauses then looks his way, brows arched in skepticism. There’s a strong possibility that Gray’s baiting him, trying to get some kind of reaction, but he could care less what the motives are. 

_Still..._

“What are you getting at?” Cliff asks. 

“Just making an observation is’ all.” Gray faces him, yet another sense of sincerity in that abnormally stoic expression he always tends to wear. “Anyway, thank you for checking on Claire yesterday. I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t.” Cliff swipes a stray droplet of rain off his cheek with his thumb, then sighs. “I’m just doing what any real friend would’ve done.” Really, he’s embarrassed enough that he needed a push to take initiative. 

“Still, you went out of your way, in more ways than one. I appreciate it.” The taller blond pats his shoulder. Even sends a smile his way. “Thanks, Cliff.” 

This time, he doesn’t nudge him off.

The two walk through the town more and have idle chit-chat. In the end, Cliff doesn't bring up the Spring derby at all. He doesn’t have the heart to bring it up. No doubting It’s still sore and fresh in everyone’s minds. Maybe one day he’ll learn the truth of why Gray had to punch someone out for Claire’s sake.

He won’t chastise him for that. He’d be a huge hypocrite otherwise. 

Walking past the winery, one of the ladies from the town square (notorious for spreading gossip) calls out cheerfully to the two boys. _Wasn’t her name_ —

“Ah… Morning', Manna.” Gray yawns, rubbing a kink out his neck. Cliff had a horrible feeling he’d be getting one soon too. 

“Good morning, Gray! Such a dreary morning isn’t it?” Manna beams, cheerful at such an early hour. She’s sweeping leaves off the shop’s porch as she speaks. “I can’t wait for summer to start so we get less of this depressing rain. Though, the cool weather is nice every now and then. Business will be slow until autumn comes…” 

God no, not another chatterbox. Feeling a migraine coming on, Cliff, feeble as he is with these types of situations, tries hiding behind Gray’s tall frame. It’s too late, though. 

“Oh! Who’s your friend over there? Oh, wait! He likes to hang around the church a lot doesn’t he? Quite a quiet one, but that’s not bad!” 

“Cliff’s staying over at the Inn. He’s not really up for chatting right now, though.” Gray looks over his shoulder and winks. “He got injured the other day, so I’m escorting him back to make sure he doesn’t keel over on the side of the road.” 

He peeks behind gray’s frame, noticing how her smiling face droops in concern. 

“Oh, goodness! Can’t be too careful. Was it in the woods? I told Mayor Thomas we need to clear those old paths better. Almost sprained my ankle the other day!” Manna sighs, propping her broom against the wall. “Well, I’ll leave you boys to it then. Pleasure seeing you, Grayson! And nice meeting you, Cliff!” 

And with that, she returns inside. Once safely out of sight, Cliff groans into his palms. It felt like a fuse short-circuited and died inside him. Gray lets out a dry laugh, almost amused. 

“You listen to Carter’s boring sermons every morning and _that’s_ what drives you mad?”

“Carter sermons aren’t boring.” Cliff firmly stats, shooting the other an icy cold glare. Gray catches the hint and swiftly changes the topic.

“Alright, alright. She’s a huge chatterbox, but not a bad person.”

He didn’t need to say anymore. Cliff could tell that much. He knows how to spot the bad and good apples from the bunch. Most of the time, anyhow. 

Approaching the Inn, Cliff fantasizes about lying down in his comfortable bed. The thought of a nice, hot shower makes all those uncomfortable situations he faced almost worth it. A few feet away, he notices Ann sitting on a chair outside looking forlorn. Worry pools in his gut. Is she alright…?

“I’ve got to get back to the shop before Gramps gets on my case.” Gray shrugs. “Besides, this looks like a good chance to work on those social skills of yours.”

Liar, he just didn’t want to do it himself. 

Before Cliff can verbalize his remark, Gray extends his fist, the backside of his palm sticking out towards him. “See you later?”

He stares at his hand, dumbfounded, and Gray rolls his eyes at his child-like naivety. 

“Raise your fist out like mine. There you go, now —”

The back of their palms clack together, knuckle-to-knuckle, in perfect unison. Cliff’s eyes widen, blue hues sparkling in awe as if he just made a brand new discovery. Gray harrumphed. 

“There, a fist bump. Although It’s modified more to my liking.” Gray tips his cap at him, traces of a faint smile peek out from the shadows. “You and me? We’re cool. See ya around, Cliff.” 

As Gray walks away Cliff stands there for a few seconds, trying to figure out exactly what just happened. Before yesterday they were total strangers with barely any knowledge of each other’s names. Now, somehow, it looks like he’s made yet another friend.

Mineral town is full of surprises, huh?

Cliff looks down at the back of his hand and smiles. 

Yeah, him and Gray friends… that had a nice ring to it. 

Cliff approaches the inn. Spotting him almost instantaneously, Ann jumps from her seat and rushes closely to his side, mere inches away from his face, as if to access damage. 

“Ugh, there you are! You had me worried sick. Claire told me everything last night. How bad are the injuries?” She squints, still very close to him.

For peace of mind, he moves back several steps. Afterward, Cliff shuts his mouth and goes quiet. He can't explain why he's feeling so bashful all of a sudden at the mention of their mutual friend. “Claire —” coughing into his hand, Cliff shuffles his foot at the dirt.

“C-Claire told you already, d-didn’t she?”

Ann, perceptive as she is, must’ve noticed the _not-so-minor_ shift of his face at the mention of Claire. Cliff purposefully strays away from her prying eyes and rubs the back of his neck. 

“They’re not horrible, but not fun to live with either.”

“Can you be more specific? Just so I don't have to call a doctor later?” She huffs. 

“I’m walking, just a little beat up. I’m fine. Why are you out here so early?” He cuts to the chase, causing Ann to frown and twirl the end of her silky orange ponytail. 

“Dad said it’d be polite to wait for you. He was worried too when you didn’t walk through the door last night.”

What a good guy, caring about other people — Er, his patrons, like that. 

“Well as you can see I’m fine. Just really sore, tired, and I smell like a barn.” He can still feel straw residue in his hair. Hell, bits of hay are probably still lodged in there. 

“Ha! Yeah you do. I should hose you out here!”

Ann snickers and gently pushes his back, guiding him toward the entrance. He’s much too tired to fight back. 

After taking a much-needed hot shower, Cliff retires to his room and takes a long nap, resting well late into the mid-afternoon. With all that stress on his mind it’s no wonder he was quick to crash again. He only hopes he’ll be able to sleep later that night. 

Rejuvenated, fed, and well-rested, he wanders outside for another quiet walk, making his merry way down the sidewalk near the Aja Winery. 

_“Drat!”_

Rather wishful thinking on his end.

Against his better judgment, Cliff wearily approached closer and then realized, at that moment, that this was the exact same building that Manna was outside cleaning, hard at work making it more presentable. 

Why on earth does he keep coming to this place?

A man in a fine tailored suit stands in the middle of the sidewalk, holding onto what appears to be an — ouch, injured foot. Cliff sees the wooden crate messily knocked on the concentrate and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. Case of the slippery fingers then boom, an injured foot to topple a ruined afternoon. Before he can make a decision whether to stay or pretend he hadn’t seen, the taller, older man waves, eagerly calling out to him.

“Hey, young man! You seem strong and capable, mind giving me a hand?”

Looks like the decision's been made for him.

“Um, yeah sure.” Cliff gulps, briskly jogging closer towards the scene.

Seeing as his ribs were still healing this was a horrible idea. One Ann and Claire would scold him endlessly over. But, the building is rather close, only mere feet away from him, therefore there shouldn't be any problems. _Right?_

“The stuff isn't broken inside, is it?” Cliff asks, bending with his knees as hands make way to grab the crate. While it’s certainly been some time, this wasn’t his first rodeo moving cargo around like this.

“No, no. Luckily it’s padded up real good in there, but this is a chore alone.” The man sighs and rubs at his thick neck, before gently lowering his foot back down to the ground. Well, at least that seems to be fine.

“Do you want the box inside the house?” Cliff asks, hoisting the crate into his arms without breaking much of a sweat.

“Ah, we can go down to the cellar.” The sheepish expression on his face makes the older man laugh. “Hey don’t worry, I’ll help ya! I just don’t want to risk it falling on me again.”

Fair enough.

Slow and steady, the two work together on bringing the crate inside the cellar. The old stairs creak as they carefully make their way down inside. The cellar felt freezing cold, obviously not insulated very well. Perfect for storing the wine. For housing people? Not so much. However, despite the slight chattering of his teeth, to Cliff, it felt nice. 

“Right there, that’ll do!”

Cliff places the wooden crate alongside the other stacks. There was a lot of wine stored here. Business must be booming if they have this much stock for the summer time. 

“Thanks, son! What’s your name?”

Brushing down the goosebumps on his arms, just as he goes to stand and stretch, a rush pain hits and centers in his chest. Cliff’s face scrunches up, figuring out just now that he’s raised up just a little too fast for comfort. His injuries haven’t properly healed, even with a near full day of rest.

“Hey.. You okay there, kid?” The merry in the man’s tone drops considerably. Cliff frowns. He hated pity, especially from strangers. 

“I’m not a kid.” Hiding the clear-as-day scowl on his face, turns his head the other way, nervously adjusting the cuffs on his sleeves. He sighs, trying to loosen up his stiff nerves. “And um, my name’s Cliff.”

“Cliff…. Oh! my wife mentioned you earlier! You’re Gray’s friend, ain’tcha?”

Cliff, a bit too bashful for words lets out a shy, choked noise in response. News really spreads fast in Mineral Town. The man smiles wide and bellows out a hearty laugh.

“The name’s Duke. I run the ol’ winery here with my dear wife, Manna!” Duke flashes a million dollar grin, full of grit and heart. Surprisingly, it works wonders at easing the tension between them. Sure, the guy’s rough around the edges, but sincere enough for Cliff to let down his guard a little bit. 

“So you were injured and you still helped me out?”

“Um, It didn’t feel right to leave someone stuck like that.” He speaks. The anxious part of him did want to look the other way, play the role of the “clueless” bystander and get on with his day. All things considered, Cliff’s not sure just how charitable his character truly is after carrying such a neutral, borderline cowardly mindset. 

The lengths Cliff will go to avoid certain people (including social interaction) was troublesome and he wasn’t proud of being a recluse. Far from it, in fact. 

Regardless, Duke seemed rather happy with him.

“I appreciate the help, you’re very dependable! When you’re feeling better maybe I’ll give you another holler. How’s that sound?”

Cliff rubs at his sore ribs and shrugs, not really paying all that much attention. “Yeah sure, maybe.”

His senses only sharpen as a loud, angered female voice echoes up from above, straight down into the storage cellar. The crates were meaningless in absorbing the sound of a very displeased house wife.

“Duke! How long are you going to stay down there, you better _not_ be dipping into the stock again.”

Manna makes her way down the old rickety stairs, and her foul expression all but fades at their surprise guest.

“Oh, Cliff dear! What are you doing here? Are you feeling any better?”

“Um, getting there but thanks for the concern.”

“Duke!” Manna’s voice, aghast to the core, once again echoes throughout the tiny cellar. Both men flinch. “Did you put this boy to work?” Her expression sours, her hands placed disapprovingly against her hips. “For goodness sake, he got injured at dear Claire’s farm just yesterday. What were you thinking?”

“H-Hold on. I didn’t know the lad was hurt till just now.”

She clicks her tongue. “Oh how convenient now that it’s all said and done — ”

“I-I offered to help!” Cliff chimes in, interrupting the married couple with newfound zest, which stuns the two into complete silence. Raising his voice so fiercely without warning like that causes his chest to flare up in pain. It burns like hell, but Cliff breathes through his teeth and sucks it up. 

Cliff rubs at the side of his neck, not a fan of the unwanted tension engulfing the small room. “I’m… I’m just a little hurt right now, but not helpless. So please, don’t fuss over me.” 

There goes the kink in his neck, and a headache to match, too. 

“Well regardless, I appreciate all the help you’ve offered, Cliff.” Manna smiles. Those ocean blue eyes, once intimidatingly ferocious, now soften over at him like a beautifully calm sea. It vaguely reminds him of how his late mother used to look at him, kind and caring, not a trace of disappointment. 

“Let’s see…” Manna ponders deep in thought, her glossed lips pursed in thought. “We don’t have much money right now, but the least I can do is give you something for your troubles. Do you like wine? Oh! Or I have a nice homemade recipe I can have done in a jiffy.”

“No, really, it’s alright — ”

Duke shakes his head. He’s been down this road before. “Just let her do it, Cliff. It’ll make her happy.”

And so, Cliff was roped into an awkward, otherwise pleasant dinner with the family who runs the town’s winery. It had been so long since he had a home cooked meal, underneath the roof of a quaint family not his own. They all ate together, smiled, and Manna was hard at work making him a pack of leftovers with the warmest smile one could wear. Her and Duke got along throughout the entire evening as well. Cliff had a stroll down memory lane up until it was time to leave.

Humming, Manna packs the food into Cliff’s bag and buttons it shut. 

“There. Now that should help get your energy back after that nasty tumble you took at Dewdrop farm. Rest up, you hear? And come again sometime!” 

Cliff, carrying a lighter load than usual, carefully shifts his rucksack over his shoulder and curls his lips into a fine smile. “Yeah, of course. T-Thank you again for dinner.”

Duke laughs. “Oh, think nothing of it. Least we can do for the help you gave me back there!”

“Enjoy the wine too!”

“I will. Thank you.”

Cliff smiles and bids the couple both a fond farewell.

Walking down the sidewalk towards the direction of the Inn, the sound of bustling cicadas fills his ears. Summer came at full force and for once, Cliff felt ready for the challenge. Whatever the year decides to throw at him, this time, Cliff wants to be brave and face it head on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be done a week ago but it's been very stressful in my household. Sorry for the delay, please enjoy the chapter! Hopefully, next chapter will be centered around Cliff's birthday!


	9. Cliff's Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING! This chapter has a bit of heavy topics ahead.

“Looks like someone’s feeling better.” Ann chirps, setting down a fresh plate of scrambled eggs topped with cheese onto the table before him. Cliff (who’s been shamelessly fantasizing about breakfast since the kitchen opened) wastes no time digging in and scoops an entire forkful to his mouth.

Paying the price of being too eager he recoils back, his tongue stinging ablaze from the heat radiating off his plate — but man, _that’s good food!_

Ann, failing poorly at stifling her own laughter, pulls out a chair and takes a seat across from him.

“Don’t eat it all too fast. People will think we’re starving you.”

Cliff reaches for his glass of cold grape juice and cools his singed throat. Once composed Cliff jubilantly grins, specks of egg cling endearingly to the corners of his mouth.

“I’m just glad I’ve got my appetite back! All that bed rest was torture.”

He’s being melodramatic; If anything, being bed ridden gave him more of a chance to catch up on his reading. Still, he was an Outdoorsman at heart and missed going out on walks around town. Maybe he’ll stop by the library later to return some long overdue books.

Hopefully Mary (a stickler for punctuality) won’t be too hard on him, given the severity of his old injuries holding him back from going places.

“Got anything special planned for the week then?”

“Something special?” Cliff blinks, his teeth lightly bite down on the prongs of his fork. Deep in thought, he lowers the utensil then shakes his head. “Not really, aside from a few errands I’ve had to put off.”

A twinkle was seen in the depths of her baby blue eyes.

“Well, I heard from Carter that a certain someone’s birthday is coming up — ”

The smile he wore so vividly wipes clean from his face. Cliff drops the fork onto the plate and quietly cleans his mouth with a napkin. His eyes refuse to meet hers.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t keep being distant with your friends.” Ann remarks, before leaning in closer, just itching to pry her nose where it clearly didn’t belong. This small town loved gossip, after all. “Lets see it can’t be mine. So,” she taps her finger against her cheek. “Then It’s your birthday tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Hit the nail right on the head.

“I don’t want anything done for it. I hate my birthday.”

Such strong words, spoken without a lick of hesitation. Yet to Cliff, they were the truth.

“Well you shouldn’t,” she speaks (as if she had a clue) concern not-so-subtly sprinkled in her usually airy tone. “Why does it bother you so much anyway?”

Who in their right mind would if they were in his position? Him? Enjoying his birthday? Why do that, when the people he cared most about either left his life or the world itself? To him, it’s just another date on the calendar. _Nothing more._

“Again, I’d rather not talk about it.” Cliff gets up and musters enough common courtesy to tuck in his chair back into place. Ann, stubborn as a bull, stands to cut him off before he can scurry along elsewhere. Cliff clicks his tongue at her persistence, but Ann continues to stand her ground.

“Alright, fine. Your birthday’s a sore subject. I’ve got that much.” Ann speaks, her voice lowering down to a more serious octave that makes him a little nervous. “But.... if someone else wants to do something nice for you, don’t go being a jerk about it. Okay?”

Cliff raises a brow at her. What’s that supposed to mean? He rolls his eyes and walks past her, heading out the front door to do his errands and more importantly, properly start his boring daily routine.

“Well you’re lucky no one really comes around here, so the book wasn’t in demand by someone else.” Mary plainly states, placing the book he had brought back in a dusty bin respectively labeled “returned”, tucked neatly underneath her large desk.

“R-Right...”

Was the air always so stale in here?

An indescribable tension fills the room. It creeps down his neck, floods his ears and ebbs away at all his senses. Cliff, desperate for a distraction, stares at the various stacks of books scattered in neat piles. His throat goes dry the longer he bears the silence.

“Was that all you wanted? Or would you like to check out another book?”

“Oh, n-not at the moment, but —”

Without warning Mary slams her palms straight down onto the mahogany desk. She tips her glasses up to her nose, while her spectacles shimmer a bright, blinding white.

“What about your favorite genres? Do you have a specific preference? A book you’ve been dying to read as of late. Perhaps one we don’t have here?”

Cliff gawks. His face blanches.

“I — What?”

The more she rapidly talks and inches in closer towards him, looking right through him, the more panic settles in. What’s with the sudden barrage of questions?! Or the random interest in his preferences, for that matter.

Sweat permeates his palms as they quiver in fear. Hell, he forgot everything he ever enjoyed -hobbies and interests alike- due to all this insane pressure. And for what? It’s not like him and Mary were particularly close or anything. They weren’t really friends, either. Why was she so interested now of all times?

“No, I-I’m not looking to read another book for awhile. But, uh, thanks for the concern?” He rushes to close his bag, hating the audible crack in his voice. “A-Anyway, I need to get going now. Bye!”

Before she has the chance to bombard him any further, Cliff speed walks towards the door, then dashes outside onto the streets. His legs carry him as far as the town’s general store. Finally, a place where he’s safe. Far away from pushy, prying people. Feeling the fresh air of the outdoors brush against his sweaty face, slowly his tense nerves began to soothe.

He takes in a deep, lax breath.

“Oh, Cliff!” Manna cheerfully hollers from afar, making her merry way towards him.

Erratically, he coughs.

Can he PLEASE catch a break?

“How nice to see you out and about again. Are your injuries all healed up?”

No, Cliff knew very well in the short time he’s known her that Manna is a sweet, deeply caring lady. A chatterbox sure, but she wouldn’t bombard him ruthlessly unlike a certain book-loving sadist. He feels chills run down his spine just thinking about her now…

“H...Hi Manna.” Cliff smiles wearily, banging a closed fist at his chest as if that’s a proper fix for a faulty pair of lungs. Sweat drips down his haggard face, and all at once, he can feel the insides of his stomach doing somersaults and cartwheels alike.

Manna taps her cheek, her mind wandering and focused elsewhere.

“You know, Cliff. You always seem to wear the same outfit. Do you not have any other clothes?”

Albeit a bit invasive, it’s just one question.

“Oh, I do. Although, they’re more suited for the cold where I'm from.” His tunic was free moving and comfortable. Vibrant, yet muted colors seemed to suit him the best. “I just happen to like this outfit.”

Without any further words, the older woman eyes him up and down then smiles sagely to herself, as if she reached an unworldly understanding otherwise lost to the likes of him.

“I see!” Manna beams. “Still, make sure to change your wardrobe up a bit, hm? And please, do take care of yourself!” She makes sure to point out just how sickly he looks. “Heat stroke isn’t good at all. Duke had it once and it was absolutely awful.”

“I-I will. Thanks Manna.”

While the start was beyond weird, the rest of Cliff’s day was pretty mundane. People were no longer blindsiding him with random, out of the blue questions (next time he’ll refrain from telling the priest anymore about his personal life, as Carter’s apparently a professional blabbermouth on the side.) It felt safe to start settling down. As the hot sun began to set in the background of Mineral Town, a sleepy haze settled over Cliff’s eyes. All that excitement tired him out.

A brisk walk in the cool air should do him some good.

He finds himself walking down the cobblestone pathway, down the numerous lines of small houses and small businesses, until he reaches his destination, a place of both comfort and familiarity. One of the few places where he isn’t judged.

His hand finds the latch of the finely-crafted wooden gate and opens it with ease. There, he spots a familiar blond working away in the fields, tilling soil. Claire’s blue overalls are layered upon layers of dirt and foliage. Her long, marigold-like hair appears tangled, yet flows down beautifully down her frame all the same. The orange rays of the sunset compliment her just right. Like a magnetic force his gaze gravitates towards her, unable to peer away and he swears, despite all the sweat and grime stuck to her clothes — that she’s downright radiant.

Hardworking, dedicated, sociable; Claire’s everything he isn't, yet the type of person Cliff endlessly strives to become.

Maybe, with her by his side, it might not be all that impossible.

He could change for the better.

Claire happens to notice him while wiping some stray sweat off her brow. Her face glistens in the setting sun, a lazed smile stretches across her tired face, their blue eyes find each other, lock, and meet.

His throat tightens, his heart skips beat after beat. Why is she always so happy to see him?

Well… not that he hates it.

Claire, thoughtful as always, dusts her clothes off as she joyfully runs towards him, carefully dodging any growing crops in her path. Looking closer, there’s colored bandages covering her cheeks, but her new farming gloves hands hide any other possible injuries.

“Cliff! How are you feeling?”

Whatever residual aches and pains he might’ve had leftover simply melt away in her presence.

“Ah, better.” Cliff speaks, feeling nothing but ease. She had that calming effect on him, just the same as everyone else smitten with her. He smiles lightheartedly, feeling refreshed the more he talks to her. “A lot better, actually. Fit as a fiddle.”

“Good!” She grins, before a familiar expression (that same lonely, bashful look she tends to wear whenever she feels insecure) takes over. “Um, I was wondering — are you busy tomorrow?”

While still present, his smile drops slightly at her question.

“Not really. I was mostly just gonna stay inside the Inn.”

Claire blushes, her gloved hands folding over each other. He's known her habits long enough to foresee an oncoming question. 

“Then can you come over later? I, um...” She briefly pauses, sounding _awfully_ unsure of herself. “Need your advice on something?”

He blinks, looking incredulously at her. Advice, from _him_ of all people?

“It’s nothing bad! Honest! I just value your opinion.”

Cliff stiffens, sounding out a dry laugh. “I’ll see... Really, I had plans to be alone tomorrow.”

Just as he had on every birthday before him.

Faced with such a dramatic shift in the atmosphere, Claire’s expression drastically changes. Her thumbs twiddle together as her blond brows knit in deep knotted contemplation. Claire always tried to be considerate with her words, thinking them over with tender care as not to offend anyone. Afraid to repeat mistakes from the past. They had that much in common.

Most of the time, anyway.

Cliff, teetering on the impatient side today, beats her to the punch and speaks first.

“Truthfully, tomorrow isn’t a very good day for me.” Cliff states as honestly and gently as he can, despite the painful strain in his small voice. “So, um, is it that important? The advice you need?” 

“It actually wasn’t, um, never mind.” Claire shakes her head, attempting to mask the sadness in her tone. “Please don’t worry about it. I promise it can wait. Take all the time you need for yourself tomorrow.”

Why can’t she be honest with him? Is he that intimidating? As much as he wants to delve further for details, all the unwarranted stress from the day is beginning to weigh down on him. Therefore, he won’t sully his or her day any further with his personal problems.

“I’ll see you around then?”

“Of course!” Claire nods. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

The brunet smiles at her words, then, caring as can be, props his hand atop the crown of her head, naturally entangling his calloused fingers into her lush, blond locks. “I’m looking forward to it.” Cliff sifts his fingers through her hair. A rare, soft look glazed over his deep, blue eyes. While hard to place, one might dare call it loving.

Claire, unable to find right words to say blushes endearingly at his affections, which only makes his smile stick out more. Kind, selfless, and understanding. A beautiful soul through and through.

How on earth did he find someone like her?

Cliff pulls his hand back, feeling light as a feather.

“Bye, Claire.”

As he makes his way off the property, Cliff’s blissfully unaware of the girl behind him, sending him off with avid concern.

“See you...”

Cliff retires to his Inn room that same evening, shamelessly plopping onto his bed ready to call it a night. His bag slides and tumbles off the bed, making enough noise to garner his attention. He lazily peeks an eye open from his pillow, squinting down at the spilled contents.

Nothing special that couldn’t be dealt with later. Just his journal, hunter's knife, an empty water canteen, and —

A photograph.

The one of his mother and little sister.

He stands on his feet a little too quickly, the room spinning as he hurriedly knelt down, scrambling to pick it off the floor. He rushes over to the desk and meticulously glides his thumbs around the old photograph, smoothing out any unwanted wrinkles. His stomach lurched and his throat burned with rising bile the longer he stared at the old image.

The “incident” is still fresh in his mind.

_“You’re a horrible, selfish brother!”_

Even now, his baby sister’s words pierce at his heart.

He knows.

_Yet Cliff has the nerve to roll his damn eyes, blatant disrespect towards her feelings. His hand stays firmly wrapped around the door knob. “Mom agreed I should see the world. Dad would’ve wanted me to go too... Don’t be a child because you can’t come with me.”_

That wasn’t it.

_“You’re leaving home when she’s still sick. Because you, the eldest, can’t stomach it anymore!” She stomps her feet, the loudest she’s ever been. “You’re nothing but a lousy coward!”_

He is.

_“You DON'T know anything about me! You think you do, but you don’t!” He shouts back, voice charged with anger. “You’re the child here, not me! Don’t try and guilt me!”_

The Cliff of the present wants nothing more than to throttle his foolish, adolescent past self till he’s blue in the face. Choke and hold, completely erase that “I know more than you” attitude with a single snap of the neck. Save everyone the trouble, right?

But, he can’t. He can’t go back in time.

His fingernails dig in the wood, peeling inward, leaving noticeable, unsightly marks on the finely crafted wood. His body shuddered as he began to relive the blistering cold from that day, in the wake of an otherwise beautiful summer night (only he could manage to ruin that, too.)

_“I hate you! Don’t come back!” His sister screamed through her tears, slamming the door straight in his flustered face._

_“I won’t!” He kicks his boot at the wooden door, hard, before trudging off down the snowy mountain. He didn’t dare look back for the longest time._

But then he did go back home, nearly six months later — to a gravestone and an empty house, without so much as a “goodbye” letter from his sister.

“No.”

Cliff lowers onto the floor, gripping tightly onto the desk as if it were a lifeboat keeping him afloat, lousily protecting him from drowning at sea. Shield him from the heavy onslaught of emotions coming at him in waves, violently clawing away at his sanity.

He tries to suck in some air, _but can’t._ His vision blurs as he tries to stand, completely unbalanced, like a puppet dangling off loose strings. Frantically, he searches around the room for a distraction.

_“Coward!”_

_“I hate you!”_

_“Don’t come back!”_

Hyperventilating, his shaky hand manages to trail up his chest, clutching intensely at his tunic, carelessly krumping the fabric. At the peak of his downward spiral, heat prickle behind his eyes, while tears stream violently down his pale face. His knees, losing stability, threaten to cave underneath him, left to crumble all alone.

No. No. No.

He darts his head around the room. The wine Manna and Duke gave him came to mind. It’s far from a rational thought, but it’s something. Anything, anything to make this horrid guilt _stop._

He locates then picks it off from the bottom shelf of his nightstand. He pops open the cork and takes a large swig, nearly downing half the bottle in the process.

Slowly, his breathing began to labor.

Another round down the hatch, and he could breathe again.

After a couple more minutes the empty bottle of wine drops to the floor (miraculously unscathed) while whatever’s left of Cliff’s free will timbers backward onto the creaky bed.

He stares aimlessly up at the ceiling as his eyes gradually begin to shut. He takes in a deep breath, relishing in the comforting solitude of darkness and blissful silence.

Cicadas buzz in the evening sun the following day. Claire, wearing her favorite pink hoodie and blue demining shorts, approaches the church. She smiles while holding an adorably quaint gift bag in hand.

It turns out her little spy mission might have possibly done more harm than good. Turns out her spies were a _bit_ too overzealous. Still, Claire was grateful for all their help. Gathering hints to what Cliff might like for his special day, all on such short notice too. The people in this town were so kind. It had only been around a month, but she cherished every one of her friends and neighbors. After spending a long portion of the night, careful crafting and bringing her ideas to light, she managed to gather a few goodies for him.

They’re all incredibly basic, nothing too special, but hopefully Cliff would get a use out of them.

The large doors creak open as she gives them a hearty push. She peeps her head in and scans around for that familiar tuff of messy brown hair. However, it’s nowhere to be seen. Her smile nearly falters, until Carter waves at her.

“Hello Carter!”

“Good evening, Claire.”

Despite the usual friendly smile plastered across his face, it seemed rather faux. Therefore, Claire felt obligated to investigate. She lowers her voice to a gentle volume.

“Hey… Is everything alright?”

The young priest shrugs, taking a seat. “I wish but, I’m afraid I’m quite troubled at the moment.”

Claire lowers the gift bag below onto the church pew as she sits next to him, giving him her full undivided attention. Her gentle, caring smile returns tenfold. “Well, I’m all ears if you’re willing.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Carter nods. His gaze wanders over to the sunset peeking in through the stained-glass windows, enveloping the room in a lovely orange glow. “I’m just a little worried because Cliff said he would come in this morning but he sadly never showed. Which is very unlike him.”

Given he’s willing to run literal miles just to make it on time, that does worry Claire. She knew Cliff wanted to be alone today -he made that quite clear- but, failing to give Carter a heads up felt widely out of character for him. True, she could sit here and pout; simmer in her bubbling pot of worry. Instead, Claire decides to take action. Her hand reaches for her gift bag as she stands, a newly determined smile on her features. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll go check on him. He’s probably at the Inn still.”

“That’s incredibly kind of you, thank you.” Carter hums. “And despite the circumstances of today, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled that you thought of him.”

Blush creeps on her cheeks as Claire nods her head politely.

Yeah, she really hoped so.

Claire enters the building and the inn is busier than she originally anticipated it to be. Must be the rush of tourist season. Customers filled the space of every table and Ann was preoccupied, running herself ragged waitering all the tables. Between all the sounds of all the voices, the blaring music of the jukebox, and the clashing of metal pans in the kitchen, this was a major sensory nightmare.

She didn't have time to worry about that, though.

Anxiously gripping her gift bag in hand till her knuckles hue white, the blonde makes a quick retreat over to the stairs, doing her best to ignore every noise flooding her eardrums.

Ann, with her hands full, spots a familiar flash of yellow pass on by her. She audibly gasps, nearly dropping the filled tray in her hand as she tries to grab the other girl’s attention.

“C-Claire, wait! Y-You shouldn’t!”

“Yo, Ann! Our drinks?” A group of men call out, cheekily waving around their empty mugs.

Ann groans, left with no choice but to reluctantly make her way over towards them. All she can do is put on her best customer service smile, and silently pray that the person she plans on visiting upstairs won’t ruin the _one_ good thing going for him.

The more she ascends up the stairs the less intense all the commotion downstairs becomes. Claire, feeling a million times lighter, releases a sigh of relief she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in all this time.

Quiet as a mouse, Claire makes her way down the long hallway, reading off the number of each room. If memory serves her right, then Cliff’s room should be around … right here!

She knocks her knuckles firmly around the door. After a fair amount of time passes, she repeats the action, subsequently knocking a little harder.

“Cliff? You in there?” She calls out.

No response.

Many people have called her methods unorthodox. Which is fine, because has she no qualms rapidly knocking on his door until she knows he’s alive at the very least. And that’s exactly what she plans to do.

“Come on, Cliff! I know you’re there!” Claire grumbles. She goes from knocking, to erratic pounding with no signs of stopping. Only upon hearing the door lock click open does she stop her incessant assault of the door. The indignation falls from her face, replaced with a satisfied smile.

“There you are — ”

_“What do you want.”_

His words are angrily enunciated, borderline hissed out. Claire’s eyes widened, her feet glued firmly to the ground as if she had been paralyzed. The tone of his voice is downright scalding, enough to make her skin feel just hot from hearing it. Sure, Cliff had somewhat of a deep voice but this — that didn’t sound like him at all.

Claire stands there, unable to speak as her fingers twiddle tightly around the string of her bag. She nearly succumbs under his heated gaze, that gentleness she came to know and love gone — just like that. Like it never existed in the first place. Merely a figment of her imagination. The yellow tunic he normally wears is missing, instead, he has his purple undershirt on and an old pair of cargo shorts, full of old holes.

The skin under his eyes are all red and puffed out, as if he had been crying alone for hours. The thought alone puts her on the verge of tears. Rings of fatigue etch deep upon his skin, and the ponytail he used to adorn is horribly botched. Did.. Did he try to cut his hair? Claire’s heart sinks the more she looks over him. He looked terrible. Not like himself.

Cliff groans, clenching his hand around the knob, ready to shut it clean in her face. History loves to repeat itself.

“If you’re going to wake me up just to waste my time, _then leave_ — ”

Coincidentally, Cliff happens to lower his gaze at the right moment. He immediately takes note of the decorative bag in her hands and for a brief interval, it’s almost like the venom poisoning his dark, hazed eyes dissipates.

His fingers twitch, his hand, which had gone limp, falls lifelessly from the door knob.

Suddenly, all that strange questioning from yesterday starts making sense. Claire, most likely being too busy to be front with him and just ask, had people try and guess what he’d like for his birthday. There was never any “important” advice that she needed. Hell, she probably just wanted to spend the day with him, try and make it a little less miserable.

He ruined that too.

_He ruins every goddamn thing in his pitiful life._

“I...I-I’m sorry,” his voice cracks into tiny pieces, like bits of shattered glass, almost as if someone stepped on him repeatedly to smithereens. Life may as well have. It wouldn’t have been the first time or the last. Ready as he’ll ever be to kiss their entire friendship goodbye Cliff (clearly choked up) rushes to shut and lock the door behind him. What he doesn’t expect is the sound of a nasty crunch to fill his ears. He turns back around. 

Needless to say, he’s both horrified and stupefied all at once seeing a pair of swollen fingers clenched on the door frame. Claire's fingers to be exact.

Does her reckless behavior know no bounds?

“Are you stupid?!” The door swings open at the exact same time as her death grip releases on the frame. He heaves a sigh of relief, although such reprieve is short-lived. Cliff’s headache only seems to worsen, albeit, now for different reasons. “Don’t use your hand as a doorstop! You could’ve hurt yours—”

Abruptly cut off, he stumbles backward into the room as Claire’s body crashes into him, the bag she held now discarded carelessly on the floor. Cliff steadies himself, managing to keep upright as she clung onto him. His pupils, now pin-dot sized, poorly focus on her.

“How long, Cliff?” Her voice shakes, demands rather than asking with her words. Cliff, who felt as if the air was knocked out of his lungs, takes in a deep breath.

“Wh..What — ”

Claire retracts so fast it gives him whiplash. Looking closer, he’s shocked to see that her big, blue eyes are overflowing with tears, whilst her fingers prop firmly on his shoulders. Her grips tighter than a vice, strong enough to apply bone-crunching pressure to his poor collarbone. Claire’s adamant on refusing to let him out of her sight. He briefly wonders if that’s deliberate, if Claire knew that if she freed him, right then and now, he would forever be lost. She hits him with a couple mind-rattling shakes for good measure, enough to daze him further, then repeats the question — louder.

“How long were you alone like this?!”

And then it falls, his last line of defense. That last cord which barely kept his glass heart intact snaps. It breaks, shatters violently inside him, leaving him numb and cold just like all those years ago. Cliff slumps forward head first into her shoulder, unable to face her as he finally gives her an answer. No matter how much he tries, _he just can’t lie to her._

“...The whole time.”

Claire holds onto him as the entirety of his body weight shifts onto her. Broken sobs, weaker than a newborn kitten’s mew, echo between them. Cliff weeps, and weeps, cries as he desperately brings her small frame closer to him, shamelessly falling apart in her warm embrace.

With the back of her heel she kicks the door shut, granting them a bit more privacy. Claire continued to hold onto him as he cried his heart out. Ruffling a hand through his unruly, chopped locks. 

That’s right, he doesn’t have to suffer on his own anymore.

_He’s not alone._

“Just a second, I'm almost done.” 

After about a half hour of crying in her arms, soaking every inch of her clothing with his tears and getting all bent out of shape, Cliff fortunately began to settle down. The brunet found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling his knees, focused on nothing but steadying his uneven breathing as Claire had gently instructed earlier. 

Claire’s stationed right behind him, standing on her knees while holding a pair of silver scissors, making quick work on mending his botched haircut. It started scratching his neck too much last night, and he impulsively, like a fool, ended up chopping his ponytail off altogether. 

A light rain began to pour in the background, droplets tapping rhythmically against the window. Cliff watches as the split-ends of his brown hair fall onto the hardwood, nearly blending in with it. He'll have to sweep that up later.

Feeling a hot puff of air sweep against his skin, his body shudders. Cliff grits his teeth and hugs his arms, which were bare due to rolling up his long sleeves. A few more short puffs of air later, Claire proceeds to dust the rest of the straggler-hairs off his shoulders. She smiles, satisfied with the job.

“There we go.” She hums as her fingers swiftly unknot the old white sheet around his neck, before bundling it up in her arms to throw in the wash later. When she first entered the room was a complete mess, like a robber ransacked the place. However, she took care of it without a single complaint. Claire stands to place the sheet onto the freshly cleared desk, before returning to his side, placing a handheld mirror into his hand.

“It’s a little shorter than I intended it to be, but I had to make it all even again.”

“That’s fine.”

Cliff glances absentmindedly into the small mirror. He nods, giving his fresh cut somewhat of a positive acknowledgement. Not like he had the emotional capacity right now to really care at the moment… Once done, Claire takes back the mirror from his hands, before hurrying to return it to the bathroom. Which she also happened to clean, again, without any indication of disapproval. Seriously, how was anyone _this_ nice?

Even when she noticed the empty bottle of wine on the floor (no doubt piecing together what happened before her arrival) her tender smile never faltered, it stayed. She took care of it for him, properly discarding it into the trash. Ironically, her exact words to the situation were: _“There, out of sight, out of mind!”_ as if it were that simple to forgive and forget all that he’s done.

Claire wasn’t the blatant cure against the inner voice of his saboteur. However, her presence, the soothing sound of her voice, all of it seemed to pacify him with minimal effort. 

When you’ve been judged, you therefore lack the ability to harshly criticize others for their own, similar misdoings. 

At least, she did. He's never met anyone more forgiving than her.

Claire returns before he can begin to miss her and plops down right next to him, now holding the very same gift bag she came with. 

That’s right, it’s technically still his birthday. 

Truly, Cliff didn’t feel deserving of a gift in the slightest after all he's done. However, he’ll be damned if he hurts her feelings again. He never wants to see her cry over his sake again.

“I know you hate your birthday. Well um, now I _definitely_ know that it’s a sore subject.” She nervously fiddles around with the contents inside the bag. Old habits die hard. “Regardless, I still wanted to do something nice for you, because I care about you a lot.” Claire looks his way, those gentle, ocean blue eyes waste no effort in coaxing him. “So, will you let me?”

“Yeah.”

“Um, this one’s a little mushed now... but it’s still good!” Claire affirms, pulling out a small, clear container. Just when he thought he finished all his crying, tears began to brim over his reddened eyes once more. He clears any wet droplets out of sight with a quick swipe of the thumb. 

“You got me cake?”

“To be clear I didn’t make it. I just bought a small piece from a bakery in the next town over.” She bashfully moves some stray hair out her face. “I heard you liked strawberries so I thought, hey, why not some strawberry cake?” Claire sets it down in his lap, continuing to shuffle through the bag of miscellaneous goodies. 

Sadly his cake’s a little worse for wear, but thankfully still edible just as she said. Pink frosting is smeared all over the container from it’s earlier tumble. The one strawberry (no doubt neatly placed on top) was nothing but a mushy mess now. Still, Cliff holds the container as tenderly as one would a newborn, treasuring the kind gesture.

How did she know he loved strawberry cake? 

“These are kinda poorly made, but I tried.” Claire, smiling happily despite her prior words, proceeds to dump a handful of handmade bookmarks into his lap. 

Cliff sets his cake to the side and goes through each one. 

Each one was appropriately lamented and a different color, made from what appeared to be patterned paper. Most of them nature themed. Imagery of vast mountainsides, maple leaves, ocean waves, all the bookmarks had a cute little tassel with a matching color at the end as well. 

What was she talking about? These were perfect. He loved them.

“I heard from Mary that you were getting into reading more and it _sucks_ to lose your place.” She constantly tells herself that she can memorize the chapter place, but fails every single time. “I had a bunch of old origami paper lying around. So I thought I'd put it to good use!”

“I didn’t know you did origami.” He notes, still sorting through them all.

“My grandma used too. But she passed before I knew her. I tried learning to connect with her but.. the most I could make were little cats.”

He huffs out a broken laugh, and cracks a smile for the first time that evening. It’s small, but there nonetheless. He can definitely picture her making a bunch of misshapen, miniature Mitzy’s proudly put out on display. 

Cliff places the bookmarks into a neat little pile on top of the bed. While Cliff wasn’t a master of the craft per-say, a certain someone came to mind at the mention of origami. 

The brunet grabs hold of the blue bookmark, occupying his fingers around the blue tassel.

“My… mother liked origami.”

Tense as his words were, it’s no surprise that uncomfortable silence slithers in the mix. Thankfully, it doesn’t linger around. “She loved making little paper flowers the most.”

Claire pauses, catching onto the “past” tense of his phrasing. Her expression shifts into a gentler one. It blooms not out of pity, but mutual interest. “Yeah?”

Cliff nods, tentatively going on with the conversation. “She liked to work with her hands when she, um, c-couldn’t move as well anymore.” How long had it been since he’s mentioned her aloud, outside his own thoughts? Long enough for him to know it wasn’t right. The dead were to be remembered, never forgotten. 

Though lately, that sentiment seems to curse him rather than work in his favor.

No, keep the mood light.

He watches as Claire eagerly pulls out yet another present, beaming with contagious jubilance. “I got you a few shirts! Aside from your tunic I heard you didn’t have much of a summer wardrobe.” 

Ah, that’s where Manna came in. 

The blond smiles, happily taking out each folded shirt. Most of them were pretty plain, a stylish design here and there, but many a wide variety of different colors. Claire was far more practical with presents than he expected her to be. 

“And don’t bother about asking the price. I burnt the receipt.”

He gawks. “Y-You burned it?”

“No. But that’s a funny thought, huh? Huh?”

Claire wiggles an eyebrow, playfully jerking her elbow against his shoulder, as if that’s his cue to laugh. Cliff lets out a dry laugh solely to humor her. “You’ve got a weird sense of humor, you know that?” He takes the shirts from her hands and neatly refolds them back in his lap to store in his dresser later. He loved them.

“And the last gift, again, nothing special.. but I like to think about what people will use.”

With the bag now empty, she places it beside the bed and holds a small sewing kit in her hands. “I thought since you’re outside a lot you’re a bit rough on things, like for example. your clothes.” 

He had a hunch as to what the next gift could be.

Claire gestures for his hand. Once he complies, she sets the sewing kit in his hand, gently closing his fingers over it. 

“Happy birthday, Cliff.” Her smile is warm, radiant as the summer sun. “I know you’re not fond of your birthday but.. I’m really glad that you were born.”

Cliff says nothing as Claire holds onto his clammy hand, leaving him a bit self-conscious. Although, he notices that her palms aren’t the same as they last were. For one, they aren’t as soft as they first were when she first came to Mineral Town. No, she’s built hard calluses, thick skin, and he could feel every ounce of her hard work built within her fingertips. 

As her slender fingers sift through his closed palm, effortlessly intertwining with his own, Cliff can’t help but think that they fit rather well. Or that’s simply wishful thinking, it's possible that he’s still a bit intoxicated. That was a lot of alcohol shoved into his system, after all. Could explain why he can't stop feeling so guilty over treating her the way he did. It was excusable. 

“I… I’m real sorry for what I did earlier.” 

“Well, my fingers are still a little sore.” She jests. Though Cliff’s guilt seems to remain raw from that moment in particular. He purposely looks away from her, a bashful, distant expression on his face. 

Oh, no. She won’t have another emotional regression today, not on her watch!

Claire, quickly taking the initiative (she’s doing a lot more of that lately) uses her free hand to gently cusp his cheek, encouraging him to look back at her. Which he does. 

“H-Hey, just kidding! I don’t mind. I knew you weren’t in the right frame of mind.”

Cliff looks blankly back at her, which only worsens her concerns. What if she took the joke too far? Was he upset again? 

“Cliff, really, I forgive you. So please, don’t be so hard on _yourse…_ ”

Whatever words she was going to say remain unspoken as Cliff abruptly separates their joined hands. A cold chill settles in from his absence, causing the smile to fade entirely from her face. Her heart aches, truly believing that she had royally messed up with him again, just like she had the last time. 

That is until he guides her hand up towards his lips, the very same ones that trace effortlessly against her sore fingers. He settles on a particular red spot and presses a tender, delicate kiss to her digits and their adjoining knuckles.

Well, at least Claire couldn’t feel the pain in her fingers. Or the entirety of her face, for that matter.

“Wait a minute, d-did you just — ” The tips of her ears burn, lit ablaze so easily — since when was he this forward? She feels her brain losing proper function by the minute. Hold on, was he still drunk? That was an awful lot of concentrated wine he drank. 

_What’s she gonna do if —_

“Claire?” 

Like a mouse with its tail caught in a trap, she squeaks. Loudly, at that. With her inner dialogue rudely cut short, her big blue eyes stare widely at him, stupefied. 

He lets go of her hand before pointing at his own. “Your fingers, do they feel better yet?” 

“Huh?”

Cliff cracks a goofy lopsided smile. Then laughs, falls into a giggle fit, entirely genuine and light-hearted for the first time since she’s arrived. 

“What? I kissed them better. Isn’t that something you’d do?” 

The blush intensifies on her face tenfold. That was perfect; he had her completely fooled. And Claire hated being a fool. “You — THAT'S not funny!” Claire whines, reaching for the empty gift bag to whack him. 

Before she can, Cliff slowly leans forward and taps their foreheads together, blonde and brown bangs blending messily together. Claire looks back at him, her breath hitched anxiously in her throat. Looking at him more closely, she’s just now noticing the pure exhaustion on his face, meshed together with an equally tired smile. Well, anyone would be wiped out if they spent all that time crying their brains out. 

Cliff shuts his eyes and takes in her scent, starting to calm as he shifts slightly to rest his head against her shoulder. It’s still pretty damp from his earlier crying session, but it’ll do. 

“Again, sorry. Thank you for everything today. I love my presents.” 

“You’re welcome..” She mumbles, still a little breathless from, well, everything that was currently transpiring. Cliff wasn’t one to willingly show vulnerability. It’s made him combative on a few occasions. Though, she would never hold that against him. While she wanted to ask him more, she decided it’s best to refrain. He’s been through enough hardship for one day. Instead, her hand rubs slow, comforting circles into his back and she could feel him lax against her frame once more. 

“It’s still pretty earlier, you wanna head over to my place? I finished all my work earlier.” She offers hopefully, smiling as she comforts her dear friend. After everything that went down, she’s dead set against leaving him alone (at least for the remainder of his birthday.) “We could watch some movies, take your mind off things.”

“Yeah let me just, compose myself a little more.” Lazily he pulls himself off of her, which saddens Claire for reasons she’s not too sure of, but keeps hush about. “I probably look like a mess, huh?”

“Well then go wash your face and we’ll have a fun, lazy day in!”

He flashes her a lazed, but otherwise excited smile as he opens the door to the bathroom. “Got it. Thanks.”

Once out of sight she rests a hand over her heart, trying to calm it’s incessant pounding. She’s usually the one to initiate affection but lately, he’s being way more open with it. Come to think of it, he’s really coming out of his shell isn’t he? It makes her happy, truly. However… 

Claire shuts her eyes, giving her checks a few good, gentle smacks to steer herself.

_It’s complicated!_


	10. Reunion

“Wow, you really did cut it short.” Gray notes aloud, pinching a stray end of the brunet’s hair. Cliff frowns. Talk about a total lack of boundaries. It has to be on purpose. Jerking back, Cliff clamps a hand over his exposed nape. He sadly doesn’t bode well with friendly touch as much as he used too. 

“Yeah, it is summer so I thought hey, why not?” Cliff gulps, still not used to the chill that hits the exposed skin more often than not. He wasn’t one to draw attention to appearances, let alone his own. However... now that he’s in the presence of another guy, the dreaded social meter of _“approval”_ is weighing down on him like a pile of bricks. “It’s not bad is it?”

Gray shakes his head, a hint of a smile heard in his words. “Nah, suits you more than the ponytail.”

“Well said!” Kai interjects, happily setting down their beverages on the polished countertop. Gray huffs and takes his glass of soda off the tray. Cliff, watching a little too intently on what he does, follows his lead and retrieves his iced lemonade from the bunch.

“Kai, you didn’t meet Cliff till’ today.”

“Good point!” He grins. “Well long hair just gets in the way. Short is the way to go, if you ask me.”

“So what made you want to cut it anyway?” Gray takes a sip of his soda over ice, nonchalantly looking between him and the small radio playing the summer’s “hottest” hits on the counter. They were mediocre at best. Made for good background noise at least. 

Cliff, with the memory still fresh in his mind, tenses. He clenches his fingers around his glass of iced lemonade. The cold calms him down a little. He takes a deep breath and slowly brings the rim to his lips. Slowly he sips, attempting to steady racing thoughts. 

“I, uh, j-just needed a change. And.. Claire helped me with it.” 

Wait, why did that matter? Now he’ll just ask more questions! _Stupid!_

Gray downs about half his glass before gesturing to Kai for a refill. Kai obliges with a hearty grin, going to make another. With his back turned to the guys, working on untangling the pesky soda nozzles. Gray watches him absentmindedly. Cliff can feel his heart rate ramp up with unnecessary anticipation. 

“So she cut it for you, huh?”

Gray swirls his colorful striped straw alongside the rims of the empty glass. The same kind you’d normally see at a classic, pitstop diner. He eyes Cliff over for a second, giving him a quick look over, purposefully building tension (seriously why does everyone do that to him?) before sounding out his signature dry laugh. “Well, she’s no barber but she did a pretty good job.” 

“Y-Yeah!” Cliff nods, tuning in more so to the music playing than the actual sound of the blond’s voice. 

“Hey! We’re talking about Claire? She’s that new farmer, right?” Kai chimes in, setting down another chilled glass of Pepsi for his blond friend. He finds himself leaning over the counter, dark palms propped atop the surface, intently eyeing the two boys with a playful glint shimmering in his eyes. 

Gray sighed, having seen the sight a million times before and knowing what it means

“Hey I heard she’s _stupid_ cute, that any true?”

“Excuse me? She’s not stupid!” Cliff raises his voice, angered. Which, must be incredibly out of character for the _> “quiet guy”_ as the other men’s eyes go wide, impressively stunned to silence. Cliff slacks his shoulders, takes a long, noisy sip of his drink. He cracks, beads of sweats running profusely down his forehead. Like it was alcohol he was drinking instead of a harmless little glass of lemonade.

Yeah, this was awkward.

Gray coughs into his hand in hopes to salvage the conversation. “It’s uh, slang, Cliff. He’s not actually calling her stupid — “

“I know that.” His childish huff and jutted out frown suggest otherwise. Gray holds back a chuckle, while Kai isn’t afraid to let loose his onslaught of loud laughter. “You’re a fun guy, Cliff! Come by whenever you feel hungry or need a chat!”

“S-Sure?”

Gray and Kai were very familiar with each other, which necessarily didn’t make Cliff uncomfortable per-say. He did, however, feel horribly out of place in this well established, otherwise friendly environment. 

Is that why it feels so strange? He felt like an elephant trying to blend into the sheep pen. 

Another big shocker about his life, Cliff had very little friends growing up back home. Tiny towns didn’t carry many kids his own age, aside from himself and his little sister. He had to go to the next town over just to attend school and struggled to make any long lasting friends. Mineral Town wasn’t entirely that different in that regard, either. Gray had mentioned that now that they’re considered “friends” that he and Cliff would be doing the “hanging out” thing a lot more often. Truthfully, Cliff is half convinced it’s just an excuse to kill time and get away from his overbearing grandfather. While another half of him believes it’s purely out of the kindness of his heart. 

Regardless. He’s both nervous and happy all at once. 

“Oh, right!” Kai turns back around, setting down a plate of French fries for them all. He eats excitedly while he talks, cheeks stuffed to the brim with mushed up bits of potato. “The fireworks festival is coming up soon. I'm super psyched!”

“Oh yeah, you gonna ask Popuri to come?” Gray raises a brow. 

“You know it!” Kai grins. “You?”

“Nah. I like to watch them by myself.” Gray grabs a fry off the plate and chomps down, not really all that interested in the topic. “Lame!” Kai rolls his eyes as he pops another fry in his mouth. The pout fades from his face as the fresh, delicious sea salt settles atop his tongue. His recipe was top notch.

Cliff feels his mouth water. Just how long had it been since he sat down and ate a plate of these? On the open road, they were his favorite food whenever he spotted a diner out in the middle of nowhere. Endless sparkles shimmer in Cliff’s eyes. Like a little glutton he reaches to grab a handful of fries for himself, completely forgetting the company around him. 

“What about you, Cliff?”

Cliff only manages to grab a few fries for himself. He thickly swallows down the hearty helping and ignores the dryness lodged in his throat. 

“What about me?”

“I said, do you wanna take anyone in particular to the firework festival?” Kai asks clearly, in a way that makes his words virtually impossible to misconstrue. He’s not sure whether to feel grateful or cursed.

“I just heard about it now so uh, no.” 

“Well there you go then. Ask Claire!”

Well… that would make up for him not being the one to take her to the derby a couple weeks back. Not to mention, everyone’s attention would solely be on the fireworks, not other people — the perfect social, not-so-social event to blend into. 

“I mean, I could.” 

“I’m not sure she’ll accept.”

Whatever words either two had prepared to say had died in their throats at Gray’s unpredictable, blunt response. Then again that was his speciality, wasn’t it? Kai winches as he crosses his arms, being the first to break the tension suffocating the small shack. 

“Damn, Gray. At least give the poor guy a chance!”

Cliff’s expression takes a sour turn. Why is he the “poor” guy now? He’s not that pathetic! Wait .. how come he’s even worried? Claire, if her busy schedule permitted, would go with him. 

_...Right?_

Yeah, of course she would. They’re friends, after all. 

Gray shakes his head, eyeing the radio once more. “Not what I meant. I don’t think she’ll go for… different reasons.” 

Cliff fidgets with his half full glass in hand. Although, to him, it’s beginning to feel half empty rather than full. The incident from the other day continues to weigh heavily on his mind. He was a complete emotional wreck, breaking down in her arms like that. He broke down into fragments, like outdated, rusted machinery. Yet Claire held onto him, tighter than he’s ever felt, without rancor and coaxed all his tears and anxieties to rest. She put all those broken pieces back together again and he somehow managed to function anew. 

No doubt he would’ve been hauled up in his room, isolating himself from the world, absolutely miserable for who knows how long if not for her persistence in getting through to him. 

This made Cliff’s desire to change himself increase tenfold. He wants nothing more than to become a guy with a unyielding, positive outlook on life. To inspire others and Cliff’s determined to keep that promise to himself. 

“I think I’ll ask her anyway,” Cliff starts, gaining both their attention. “Just so she knows the offer’s there. Plus, I owe it to her for — c-cutting m-my hair.” 

He sputters out the last part. Blushes for numerous, underlying reasons. Yeah sure, that was it. 

Gray’s fingers curl atop his shoulder and strangely enough Cliff doesn’t flinch, recoil back, or anything of the sort. 

“That’s a good idea, just don't take a possible rejection for the wrong reasons if she says no.” He pulls his hand back and resumes his snacking.

Cliff does the same. 

“Alright.” 

Be it a hunch or baseless inclination. Cliff’s convinced that Gray knows something about Claire he has _yet_ to find out. Did she dislike crowds too? No, that couldn’t have been it. She was thrilled before about going to the Spring Derby to bet on the horses and that place was packed with people from all around the state. He can’t figure it any other reason as to why she would reject the outing all together, though. 

Too much dwelling can stress a person out. Therefore, Cliff focuses on bonding with the guys over being a worrywart. He had fun, too. Lots of it, more than he thought possible. Everyone talks and hangs till the radios play the last of the greatest hits and the glow of the sunset filters into the small building. There were a few customers here and there, but it had remained those three for the longest time. 

* * *

At this point it was just Kai and Cliff, as Gray had to return back to his grandfather’s for work. Kai’s preoccupied wiping off the counter, while Cliff’s listening to the radio. It’s not until the bell from the door rings, notifying that someone is here, catches both their attention. Kai, being the owner of the fine establishment, greets them first. 

“Welcome! What can I get ya?”

“Oh — I actually might order something! This place looks nice, but for right now some directions would be helpful.” A male voice speaks, sophisticated and on the gentler side.

Cliff, a little too comfortable from listening to the music on the radio nudges himself back to earth. When he does, his eyes widen slightly at the person standing near him. 

Firstly, he wasn’t a local or your average tourist. He stuck out far too much. He was only a few inches taller than Cliff. Also no older than a few years at most. His blond hair was styled in both a refined, yet naturally messy wave. His round marine blue eyes give off a feeling of calm serenity, like the ocean waves themselves. He wore an orange hoodie and a black undershirt, with a white jacket and pants to tie the look all together. 

Cliff squints a little. He’s never met this person before and yet he looked so... familiar. 

Why was that?

“Oh, you visitin’?” Kai tilts his head, then grins. “No worries! I know this place like the back of my hand, where you lookin’ to go?”

“Is Dewdrop farms far from here? There’s someone I’ve been wanting to see.” 

Kai’s mind draws blanks, while Cliff’s runs rampant with different thoughts. A stranger from out of town looking for Claire? What for? Kai rubs at his head, struggling to remember. It was nothing but a barren plot since he last saw it in passing. “Ah shoot... it’s been awhile since I last — ”

“I can show you where it is.” Cliff offers. Kai pauses, gawking at his eager proposal. Seriously, what is going on? The mystery man smiles, seemingly relieved. 

“Thank you! That’s very kind.” 

Cliff stands from the bar stool and gives the man another quick look over. He seemed harmless enough, though looks can be deceiving and he can’t help but feel a tad uneasy towards Claire’s “guest” in particular. Kai looks over at his new friend worriedly. His brows crease in concern. 

“Cliff, are you sure? I mean, you and strangers are kinda…” Kai’s strained voice trails off while he makes vague gestures with his hands, ones Cliff can safely assume are meant to represent complete and utter disasters. 

“Oh, you’re Cliff?” The blond blinks, intrigued by this discovery. He appears to eye him differently now, more carefully, as if piecing something unspoken together. Likewise, Cliff’s curiosity continues to grow the more he interacts with this said stranger. _Just who was he?_

“Yeah, that’s me.” He speaks. All falls silent for a little while until the taller man nods his head, his smile gentler than it was seconds before. He's like a lamb in a way, he gets softer and softer the more you interact with him.

“I see. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Cliff, ready to leave this place behind him, shoves both hands in his pockets and guides the two of them towards the exit. “Thanks for the food, Kai.”

“Oh! I’ll be sure to try your menu on my way back.” The stranger hums. 

“I’ll hold you to it. See ya, two!” Kai waves them off. 

* * *

Bursts of cool, ocean air hit the center of his pale cheeks, causing Cliff’s face to flush a light tinge of pink. No matter how comfortable the indoors might feel, nothing beat the mystical splendor of taking in the earth’s raw, natural beauty. The orange sunset made the rolling waves sparkle magically with glimmers of people pink, like a scene out of a movie, and then the usually isolate docks —

_Had a YACHT parked in it?!_

“I got a tad impatient waiting for boats, so I used my own.” The man chuckles, as it were the most nonchalant occurrence to have happened. Oh, yeah. He uses his private boat to go places _all_ the time too. No big deal. _NO!_ Cliff's somehow manages to both lift his jaw off the ground and simultaneously keep his sarcastic comments to himself. Just how loaded was this guy?

“The mayor won’t have a problem will he? I didn't think to check the local laws concerning that. I don’t plan to stay too long.”

Rich AND considerate? The hell?

“Uh, no it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Splendid!” He grins, a familiar crinkle in his flashy, snow white smile. An odd sense of nostalgia washes over him. Cliff feels as if he’s seen this before, but cannot quite place a name or face to such a delighted expression. “Shall we be on our way then?”

Cliff, still harboring obvious hesitation, agrees and leads them to the stairs leading towards town square, into the heart of Mineral town itself. 

He watches how the stranger eyes every little building with genuine interest, like a cat surveying its new surroundings. He offers polite smiles and words to the townsfolk who spot him, often reminding Cliff of a kind prince out of some overtold fairy tale greeting his beloved subjects. Usually, this would annoy him. Yet, he had an undeniable sincerity about him that even Cliff couldn’t wholly ignore. A lot of the girls seemed to have that same impression as well. He practically had to drag him away to avoid attracting a huge crowd of nosy, swooning ladies across several different age groups. No doubt he’ll be the topic of gossip for weeks to come. 

As they approach the farm the blond stops and stares in awe at the large, green landscape unveiled before him. Cliff turns his head, raising a curious brow at him.

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing.” The man smiles, a hint of pride gleaming in his marine blue eyes, waves of unspoken emotion swirling wildly within such lively hues. He almost gets lost trying to decipher the meaning behind them, until a lively, honey-sweet voice nestles its way into his ears.

“Cliff!”

All at once, the back of his neck radiates heat. Reminiscent of the time how her delicate fingers caressed his bare flesh, dusting it free from any loose strands of hair. Cliff hastily claps a hand over his neck, forcefully burying his bubbling feelings back down. They’ve been doing that a lot lately, acting up without warning. He’s still not sure as to why it's happening but that wasn’t important right now. 

"E-Evening, Claire!"

Wearing a fond smile the brunette's face unconsciously darkens to a subtle shade of red, and while he’s skillfully quick to notice and tone down the sudden rush of emotion, the man next is more observant than he would’ve liked to have noticed. He smiles at him, as if he knows something he doesn't.

Before he can deny any ludicrous implications that might’ve spilled from this stranger's mouth, Claire gasps so loud, it makes his heart stop. Her jogging stalls to a slow, trance-like walk, seemingly doubting the man’s appearance next to him. The reaction shocks him to say the least. Meanwhile, the stranger simply chuckles, his blue eyes mirroring the same, unspoken emotion as hers. The blond smiles as tears trickle down her sun-kissed cheeks. 

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Good to see you again, Claire.” 

Cliff looks at them both, and it clicks — he finds that missing piece of the puzzle he’s been struggling to solve for quite some time. The old pictures that hung in her hallways come to mind. All those the letters that were scattered across her desk, addressed, but never sent, also crept into his subconscious. 

While usually incredibly slow on the uptake, his confirmations are all validated the minute Claire rushes straight past him -as if he were invisible- nearly knocking down the man next to him in a tight embrace.

“Will!” 

She cries out, the moment incredibly heartfelt, before quickly turning their embrace into something more like a violent bear hug. She mutters both praises of relief and vague ushers of complaints. Yet, the man known as “Will” handled it like a certified champ. Just looking over at the scene makes Cliff recoil. His bones ache at the sight, while his body involuntarily shudders. Was she thrilled or mad to see him? 

Meanwhile Will merely laughs, happily taking the brunt of her strength and steadily holds onto her, his warm smile strained, but never fading — not even once. He pats her head and ruffles her hair, picking out stray pieces of grass off her head with tenderly crafted touches. 

“I’ve missed you too, little sister.” 

Claire clings to her big brother, like a baby sloth to its mother, leading Cliff to put a label the moment as “endearing” during the final seconds of the long awaited reunion between the two siblings. 

The insides of his stomach churn with envy, hot and searing, but he does well concealing such selfish thoughts. This was Claire's moment. She **deserved** this more than him. Despite these troublesome feelings, he’s able to put on an honest, crooked smile. For both their sakes, and maybe his own. He echoes out a shy laugh. 

“Wow.. I didn’t know you had a brother, Claire.”

“Really?” Will pouts, though he doesn’t seem all that saddened by this revelation. The taller blond looks directly at Claire, more curious than anything as to why he’s almost been kept in the dark. “You don’t talk about me?”

She waves her hands dismissively, worried etched into her cheekbones and eyes, still glossy from being wet with tears mere moments ago. “N-No one asked! My family never came up that much." Yet, Cliff knew well enough that it was a sore subject. He’s got his fair share of those. "I would _never_ hide you from my friends.” 

“I’m only teasing. I completely understand why you would be hush about me and our… _situation._ ” He shrugs, yet wears a smile in the presence of his little sister. Cliff crosses his arms, lost at his vague words. 

What situation?

Suddenly, the yacht parked at the docks flashes in his mind and it all begins to make sense. That million dollar smile, the casual, yet flashy attire, all those women practically fawning over him… 

Cliff’s eyes go to the size of pin dots as he gasps, once again slow on the “grand” reveal. 

“HOLD ON, YOU’RE RICH?!” His words sound more like an accusation than a realization. And of course, like every word that comes out of his _stupid_ mouth, it’s taken the wrong way. Claire’s face immediately pales, all color drained, until her cheeks flush a deep, angered red. _Uh oh._

“Excuse me? I’m NOT rich! Will is!” 

“Same thing!” Cliff shouts back, digging his hole deeper. It's what he does best, after all.

“WHA — _IS NOT!_ ” 

They banter aimlessly back and forth, the origin of both their points lost as it quickly turned into baseless, petty arguing. Not even Stu and Mei were this vicious. The sound of their stubborn voice overwhelms every acre of farmland, threatening to reach town, until Will takes it upon himself to step between them, cutting off this crazy fire from growing any wilder. 

“H-Hey! This is a bit ridiculous to fight over, isn’t it?”

Claire lowers her fists, sounding our a bitter huff. Cliff, lacking a sense of maturity pulls down his lower eyelid and sticks his tongue out at her. This only angers her more and restarts the cycle of childish violence anew. 

Rinse and repeat.

* * *

Somehow reaching a mutual peace agreement everyone gathers inside the house. All three of them situate themselves comfortably around Claire’s living room. Mitzy jumps on the couch and cuddles up to the blond boy instead of Cliff, which only has him mildly perturbed. Well, at least that proves Will isn’t a bad person. 

Will smiles and scratches the feline behind her ears, eliciting a happy purr from the depths of her belly. “I haven’t seen you since Claire left with you. You’ve grown so much!” The calico meows in response. Meanwhile, Cliff takes a slow sip of his fresh coffee. 

Claire sits in the seat facing forward between the two boys, holding a French vanilla coffee in her hands. True to her “simple and sweet” personality. 

“It’s.. just you then, right?” Claire asks, digits tapping nervously around the edges of the ceramic mug. “Mother and father aren’t with you?” Will sets his drink down on the wooden coaster. He nods. 

“Yeah, just me.” He smiles, quick to rid their parents off as a potential conversation topic. Why bring them up when they weren’t here? “What they think doesn’t matter. I’m here to see you, after all.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Albeit sheepishly Claire does return the smile, before taking a hearty sip of her drink. Cliff frowns and sets his mug on the table, neatly atop the coaster. He had to address the elephant in the room, and boy, it was a huge one.

“Not to be rude, but I’ve been left in the dark for quite awhile now.” He looks between the two siblings, itching for answers. “Can I be filled in?”

“Of course.” Will agreed. There’s a deep look of contemplation weighing heavily on his face, nearly identical to Claire’s features if she had been born male. It’s surprising they weren’t some kind of twins. Even their brows knit the same way, crossed in a path of solemnness. Claire fidgets with her favorite mug as her brother takes over the explaining, for the both of them.

“As you already know, Claire is my little sister.” He pauses, making sure to smile in her direction, just his little way of showing that everything is alright. “Well, half-sister to be exact. We share the same father.” 

Cliff’s eyes go wide, dozens of questions are on the tip of his tongue, burning with curiosity, but remains silent out of respect to hear more. 

“We’re from a rich, prestigious family a ways from here. But, we do have some extended family living on the Sunshine islands.”

Those weren’t too far from here if Cliff recalled correctly. Just a boat ride away, in fact. Which explains how he was able to get here so fast. 

“Which leads me to ask,” Will looks over towards Claire. That gentle, loving expression of his never fading once. “We’re having a festival on the island tomorrow! Uncle Regis, Sabrina and I would love it if you could come.” He turns to give Cliff a thoughtful, inviting look. “And of course you’re welcome to bring a friend with you.” 

Claire sighs.

“As much as I’d love to see Sabrina again I can’t just leave my ranch behind. I have responsibilities, cattle, not to mention crops to attend to — ”

“What about Rick’s family? They can look after your livestock and crops for a few days.” Cliff offers, as if it’s the easiest decision in the world, only to receive an incredulous look from his cumbersome friend.

“No! T-That’s too much to ask of them!”

Will clears his throat, prompting Claire to snap her head back at him, clearly torn. 

“I understand. But please do think about it, okay Claire?” It’s faint, but his voice almost sounds like it’s pleading, charged with undertones of desperation. He can’t read all the lines, but Cliff knows that there’s more to unravel about their lives. “Family is just as important as work and we do genuinely miss you.” Will sets his empty cup atop the coffee table and stands from the sofa. Mitzy meows in complaint and rushes to Cliff’s lap instead. 

“I’ll be staying at the Inn for the night and leaving by early morning, to help prepare for the festival. You have plenty of time to make a decision.” He ends it there, before making his way to the front door. Mitzy, far from happy, pounces off Cliff’s lap as he stands up to accompany him. Claire wasn’t budging from her spot for some reason. Will, thankfully, didn't pressure her into guiding him out. This must be frequent. 

“Here,” it only took a passing glance, but Cliff already knows that look on her face. She isn’t going to want to move. “I’ll get the door for you.”

His eyes widen slightly, but soon soften into a gentle look of appreciation. “Thank you, Cliff.” He looks over to Claire and gently waves. She doesn’t meet his gaze. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

After exchanging a few brief words he bids the older blond boy farewell, gently shutting the door behind him with a loud click. He then looks over to Claire, whose hands are locked tightly around her mug. She looks like she’s getting ready to shatter it with her unhinged strength, fueled by the intense anxiety of overwhelming expectations. A look he knew all too well; A look that damn near suffocated him the other night, if not for her.

Time to repay the favor. 

“Hey. I-I’m no good with family either,” he carefully eases into the conversation, testing the “waters” so to speak. He studies her downcast eyes, searching for a sign, a significant shift or change to indicate that she needs this to cease. He will always prioritize her comfort first. The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm or worse, upset her. When nothing bad happens he continues, guiding his hands towards her, cupping them tenderly within his own clammy and equally nervous grasp. Cliff was serious about his promise and he intends to keep it alive. 

“Sometimes they’re overbearing and seem like they’re asking too much of you at once. Asking for favors out of the blue.” He lists various examples till he pauses. “Coming to your home unannounced on an expensive yacht, expecting you to make a decision on short notice like they own the joint.”

One day with Gray and he’s developed his dry wit.

Claire doesn’t lift her head, but he hears gentle little titters spill from her lips. Hearing her laugh calms him. Cliff smiles and once she allows him, slowly unhinges her tense fingers from around the hot ceramic, moving it out of sight. Cliff cradles her hands into his own, keeping them warm and safe, whilst his eyes linger on her hidden face. Her despondent gaze starts so show signs of recovery, that darling little twinkle resurfaces and he smiles. Slowly, her eyes transition back into his line of sight. 

His expression changes. “But, still. You have a family who cares for you and that’s wonderful. There will always be chances to see them. But, who knows how many you’ll really have in the future?”

Their eyes meet. One set is conflicted, yet in tune with his words. The other is avidly worried, trying to convince a stubborn somebody with completely valid feelings, one who’s already so dear to his heart, to combat whatever fears she’s feeling and see said loved ones without harboring any regret. 

“I… I know, Cliff.” Her voice is strained, her fingers bound tightly around his palms. Anyone with eyes could tell Claire still deeply regrets not being there last summer with her grandfather. The day he passed away all alone in the fields she tills every morning. There’s not a day that goes by where she isn’t haunted by it in some way, shape, or form. “But I’m scared, I haven’t seen them for so long.” Claire frets, already starting to turn red in the face from all the _what-if_ scenarios racking her brain down to the last wire.

“I don’t know how it’ll go or what I’ll even say to my uncle and cousin! It’s been years since we last properly talked." That was her fault, though. "Maybe... Maybe Rick and Popuri wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on my farm for just a couple of days?” 

She shakes her head.

“But... that's too many! And besides I'm nowhere near mentally prepared to see them and _I’m_ — ” 

Without warning, what feels like a vice tightens violently around her chest cavity, making it harder to take in air. Claire falls out of breath. Her voice, previously spewing at rapid fire, turns feebly hoarse, lacking sufficient energy to keep coherent sentences.

Of all the times to have a friggin' panic attack.

“I… I-I’m? — ”

Static fill her ears, hot, white noise floods her vision. She can’t see Cliff anymore. Where did he go? Just as she's prepared to cry and shut down, Cliff pats her firmly on the backside, bringing her back down to earth. He patiently waits, stays with her, never once taking his calming blue eyes off her. A gesture she greatly appreciates. Not aware that her eyes are watering, with a quick swipe of a thumb, all tears vanish before they can properly stream down her flushed face. 

Cliff smiles back at her. 

“Hey, It’s alright.” He softly reassures, his voice lowered to a gentle coo. “Deep, slow breaths. Take your time. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Like Will had taught her many years ago she counts numbers backwards in her head. An attempt to control her unsteady breathing. It was working, too. After getting in a few good, deep breaths, she resumes where she previously left off. 

“I guess I’m… scared? I-Indecisive? I don’t really know.” 

The grip around her hands tightens. It isn’t painful, actually it’s quite comforting, knowing someone’s there to ground her wild, turbulent emotions. Confident enough to look, Claire meets the eyes of a man with a gentle, yet intense conviction she’s not sure she’s ever been confronted with. 

“What if I went with you?”

Her heart flutters. She takes in another short breath. 

“Cliff no, I — I couldn't ask that of you. Besides, y-you have responsibilities here… too…” her voice turns smaller, trails off until it’s dead quiet again. No really, he doesn't. It’s rude to even think, but it’s true. Aside from wandering off for a few days at a time to forage, Cliff was unemployed and had no obligations tied to Mineral town. As far she knew he had no family here and kept a select few people by his side. Her included. Now that she really thinks about it, there’s nothing bounding him here. 

So why focus on her? 

“C’mon, Claire.” Cliff persists, moving in a little closer towards her. He’s still holding her hands, loose enough to where she could pull away if need be, but the thought is far from her muddled mind. This time, her face flushes for different reasons. Unfortunately, she can’t put a name to them. However each one’s bubbling with warmth, like a bunch of weighted blankets kept safe around her chest. Her heart feels exceptionally fuzzy, like her favorite socks fresh out the dryer and it’s impressive how she’s still focused on what he’s saying with how new and wonderful everything suddenly feels. 

It’s just like a few nights ago. When he emotionally recovered from a massive breakdown, one she didn’t think was humanly possible to bounce off of in a single night. He was an inspiration to her with how he kept picking himself off the ground. No matter how dark the situation may be, Cliff always searches for that smallest speck of light. She still remembers how warmly he had smiled, sharing bits of his closed off past, thanking her for being there to help him. How close they had been that night. That took a lot of trust and she’s honored to have been worthy of it. To continue to be deserving of it 

All of those emotions she felt. All of that, derived from a single, thoughtful look. Has she finally gone mad? Is Cliff really that soothing to her? Cliff gives her hands a gentle shake. She blinks at him. Oh that’s right, they were talking and here she is in a silly little daze. 

“It won’t be a bother. I won’t lose my room at the Inn cause tourists won’t be here till another week. And I know Ann would probably say something’s wrong with the room to cover for me.” He flashes a cheeky grin. “B-Besides, those islands have been on my mind for awhile! I just didn't have access to a boat. And have you looked at the brochures? The islands are perfect this time of year!” 

Yeah, he's too far gone in the geek zone. Claire can’t help but giggle at the tender display of excitement bouncing off his face, how it warms the ice cold insecurities locked around her heart. How many people had that magical effect on her? So far, there’s only two men in her life that can work such a miracle, to pull her out of her dreaded comfort zone. 

Her beloved brother, Will, and now, there’s Cliff. 

How'd she ever get so lucky?

“So what do you say?”

Claire thins her lips together. She studies his expression, the anticipation, like an eager puppy excited to go outside for a walk. Making up her mine. Claire lets go of his hands and stands from the sofa. “I say...” purposefully builds a little anticipation into her words, knowing it grinds his gears, before folding entirely and beaming with happiness. “I say you better help me find my suitcase in the closet!”

“Alright!” Cliff bumps a fist in the air, puts on a grin so wide his skin might break if he stretches it any further. Yet it continues to grow in size, brightness, unwavering and warm as the summer sun. She’s drawn to it. _To him._ Hopefully, it won’t burn her alive. 

“This closet, right? Here I’ll get it for you, just a second.” He walks towards the center of the hallway, turning to the right and locates the little closet area. 

“Yeah! That one.” Claire walks over to his side just as the old door flings open. She watches how Cliff rummages through the tall shelves and boxes with relative ease. She wishes she had a little more height to her. Cliff had a nice pair of strong shoulders, with toned arms to match. Hard labor must’ve been a breeze. With a build like that, she wouldn’t have had to haul everything in the house by herself months prior. 

He tiptoes forward to reach a bulky object in the far back, no doubt her suitcase. It’s just enough to witness his back muscles stretch in a way that sends a wave of heat to her cheeks. It’s rare seeing him out of his signature tunic (he’s been sporting one of the tank tops she bought for his birthday) making the view of his back muscles much more prominent. 

Hopefully since it’s summer it’ll be a beach festival. 

Wait.

_What?_

Shaking her head she cups her face in her hands in an attempt to steer herself into less _inappropriate_ thoughts. Though, he would look really cute in a swimsuit. Maybe some swim trunks in a nice shade of green, or maybe even blue?

_No, knock it off!_

Her cheeks are hot to the touch, almost scalding. Seriously, what is wrong with her today? 

“There we go!” He staggers a few steps back, holding a familiar blue suitcase in hand. He turns around and hands it to her with a friendly smile. “Need help packing?”

“N-No! I’m all good!” She squeaks out, embarrassed by her bold thoughts. “Do you have a suitcase?” She points back to the small room, quick to draw the attention off herself. “There’s a smaller one in there if you wanna grab it, come back, then pack a few things if needed.” 

Good thing he was practically penny pinching all this time. He had a fair sum saved to buy a souvenir or two if he really wanted one. No doubt Ann would. The summer clothes Claire’s had gotten him would come in handy as well for the trip. Funny how these things work out, huh?

“Yeah. Thanks, Claire.” Cliff bumps her shoulder with his own, giddy for what’s to come. She matches his enthusiasm, rivaling his excitement. Her cheeks are the shade of roses, not a lick of worry glued to her face. This time, he’ll make sure the summer festivities aren't ruined for her. Farm work no doubt was stressful, back breaking work. He had one day of experience and came out of it bedridden for little over a week. 

Besides, everyone needs to kick back and relax every now and then. Out of everyone, Claire’s the one who taught him that. She has taught him to be more carefree and trusting. She's taught him so many things, he wants to repay all those favors and then some.

“And we’re going to have fun. Promise.” 

“Yeah! I can’t wait. Ok, go hurry and get your clothes and _I’ll_ help you pack them.”

“And why can’t I pack myself?” He huffs.

“Cliff, I cleaned your room. I looked into your drawers.”

“And?” He should sound a little more concerned, but she was putting various things away before. It was inevitable she'd peer inside them. Not like he had anything to hide. 

Claire snorts, not caring how loud or ugly it sounded. To Cliff, it was the best sound he’s ever heard. Her voice is light as a feather, despite its razor sharp, sassy edge at the end. “And it was a _pigsty._ ” 

She swats at his shoulder, her touch both light and playful compared to the borderline brawl they had earlier today. Cliff rolls his eyes and makes his way down the hall, all the while Claire follows him, continuing to tease him until they reach the front door. 

Mitzy rubs at his pant leg, meowing incessantly. Claire pouts at the cat. Seems like she didn’t want him to leave. He puffs out a small amount of air meant to be a chuckle, kneels down, and scratches the calico affectionately behind the ears. She purrs, delighted with his touch. “I promise I’ll give you some attention when I get back.” 

“Hey, Cliff?”

He holds his hand on the knob, keeping it in place. “Hm?”

Claire fidgets in place, before stepping forward and pulling the other into a firm, well-deserved hug. Her arms snake loosely around his neck, tickling the bare skin where his signature ponytail used to lie. “Thank you for convincing me to go. I feel so much better knowing you’ll be there.”

This time around, he stays calm, not a rigid part in his body. Cliff returns the hug and flutters his eyes shut, indulging in their closeness. He takes it all in, her careful touch embracing him, the scent of vanilla wafting off her long, gold hair. 

Over the past few months Claire’s been a huge comfort to him. Funny to think how in the beginning Cliff didn’t like her touching him at all. Countless times he had convinced himself, drilled it into that thick skull of his head to **never** get close to anyone _ever_ again. To forcibly fit into the _“loner”_ persona he spent years trying to master. Now here he is, comforting someone already near-and-dear to his heart. 

All it took was a small town and a _one-of-a-kind_ girl to gradually change his mindset. Life works in mysterious ways. 

Cliff smiles into her hairline, bringing her just a little closer to his chest. It wasn’t cold and yet, her body’s so warm against his. It soothes him to a state of pure peace. Like his happy place -if he had one- were right here. “Anytime, Claire.”

He gives her a little squeeze for good measure, letting out a blissful sigh. 

_Anytime._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New year! Again, I'm sorry for the slow updates. This chapter was meant to be finished and published _much_ later, but I ended up falling ill (don't worry it wasn't rona) and dealt with debilitating insomniac related issues on top of it all. _Buuuut_ I'm happy to say we're finally diving into a little mini arc here soon! And finally, Claire's brother makes an appearance! Ever since I saw a picture of Will from the Sunshine Islands. I couldn't get it out of my head how fun it would be to make a story where the two were related. A few more characters from Sunshine islands series will be making cameos, so keep an eye out for that!
> 
> Also my favorite thing to write is Gray being mysteriously vague on purpose to keep people guessing. That's technically not a "canon" trait of his but one i can very much see him abusing LOL
> 
> Anyway I will do my best to pump out more chapters. However, I do prioritize quality over quantity though and I can't help being a slow writer to get the job done. 
> 
> SO thank you all for the support so far!! I love writing this story!


	11. Voyage

Cliff spent the rest of the evening over at Claire's house, mentally preparing for a vacation he hadn't expected to go on in the first place. At the very least, he wasn’t stretching the truth when he showed interest in visiting Sunshine Islands. Actually it’s quite the opposite, like a tourist’s pipe dream come to life! Rumors mentioned that local farmers years ago had restored the island to its former glory, apparently more extravagant than how it appeared in the past. Before, people wouldn’t have been able to confidently spot it's location on a travel map. Now? The name “Sunshine Islands” was known far and wide, especially to small town country folk like himself. 

Despite being informed on such short notice, Rick and Popuri were more than willing to tend to Claire’s farm and livestock for a couple days. Since she was still technically starting out (in their words, not his own) her animals were “minimal” and “not taxing” whatsoever to look after. An clear insult to injury, _but he digresses._

They had even offered to pet-sit the Calico, Mitzy, while she was away on the mini vacation. Yet another incredibly kind, selfless good deed. Cliff’s left to wonder if he’s doing enough as well. 

Light breaks through the dusk, pouring subtle rays of sunshine into the living room. Cliff considered himself an early riser, but found himself stuck in an excessive yawning loop having to be awake at the crack of dawn. 

Double checking that all his precious belongings were packed, he steps outside and locks the door. They have about an hour to get to the docks and should reach the islands by mid-morning.

His hair is still very much a layered mess, his minimal efforts to brush did nothing to mend such unruly strands. Well, at least in a weird way it suits him. He wears a pair of beige cargo shorts and one of the T-shirts Claire had bought him. Though, he has to wonder _why_ in particular he’s adamant in looking so presentable now of all times. It’s unlike him. Cliff sighs, absentmindedly fixing a few straggle hairs out of his face. Maybe it’s because he felt like he had to impress all of a sudden? 

Despite the initial shock, after finding out the “secret” of her otherwise vague family background, his overall opinion of Claire genuinely hadn’t changed much at all. Actually, it's like he’s found a new sense of clarity figuring it out. She, or rather, her brother was the one rolling in riches — not her. Yes, it’s not his life, therefore he shouldn’t meddle in family affairs that aren’t his. Regardless, Cliff finds himself agitated by it all. 

Claire didn’t seem to outwardly care whether or not her immediate family acknowledged her.

But Cliff was different. 

Claire had to work twice as hard for everything, from making ends meet to gaining her family’s approval. Personally, in his opinion, no one should have to overexert themselves for either. Sadly they’re both weaved into the web of unfavorable circumstances life’s cruelly tossed them in. 

But today Cliff isn’t going to overthink, render his mind useless with solutions to deep-rooted problems that aren’t his to begin with. 

No, instead he’s going to look nice and go on a trip with a friend.

On a vacation that’s going to be fun. 

After locking up the farmhouse for Claire, Cliff makes his way down to the docks. Seagulls flock above circling the sky with loud squawks. Ocean waves crash in gentle blankets of cerulean against the sandy shore. The air tastes of sea salt, and while he never grew up near the coast, it felt oddly homey. 

In the distance, Cliff catches a glimpse of a “farewell committee” he hadn’t anticipated to see. 

“Gray?! How did you even know?” Claire asks, trying to carry her own suitcase but Gray was stubborn and ignored all her attempts to fetch it back. 

“Simple. Cliff’s a shit liar.” 

Ann pulled it out of him when he went over to the inn to pack last night. Then, Ann proceeded to tell Gray because they’ve got nothing better to do in this small town than gossip amongst themselves. 

“Unlike him, I won’t blabber to the whole town under a little peer pressure.” Gray stops and swings his head over his shoulder, now face-to-face with a far from pleased Cliff. Yet, the blacksmith waves his hand in greeting as if it were another casual Friday. “Oh hey, speak of the devil.” 

“And he’ll appear.” Cliff cheekily finishes his sentence, before passing on his suitcase over for Gray to carry as well. Yes, it’s petty, but he knew for a fact that he packed lighter than Claire. Therefore, Gray was getting off easy for blatantly throwing him under the bus. 

“Damn, I liked you better when you were meek and stuttered every word.” The blond’s grin is crooked, and it irritates him more than it should. 

Claire ignores their bickering, bonding, _whatever_ you wish to label it and clasps her hands together, her smile as gentle as the ocean waves swishing in the background. “But if anyone does ask it’s alright — just say it’s family related. Not a big deal.”

Not with people like Manna around it isn’t. 

“Uh huh. Got it. And for Cliff?”

"What about me?" Cliff shoves his hands into the depths of his pockets. He huffs, as if been told a really bad joke. The brunet slowly slouches inward, closed in on himself like a turtle out it's shell. “Seriously, no one here’s gonna notice me gone.” 

Aside from a seagull squawking loudly in the distance, no one speaks after that. 

Well, it’s not even past seven and he’s already managed to trash any of the good vibes they had going on. Great! 

“Alright,” Without any warning or mercy, Gray delivers a rather firm kick to his shin. Claire gasps; but covers her mouth before any sound can effectively come out. Gray walks onto the docks, completely stoic faced While Cliff struggles not to fall over and die on the spot. 

“Lets go, kill joy. Show me to the boat.” 

Cliff holds onto his knee as if it were shot, following as instructed, all while angrily shooting dirty looks at the unbothered blond. Cliff hisses.

“What was that for?!”

“For disrespecting me, Kai, Anna, Manna, Carter, Doug, Duke, and a bunch of others in town.” 

Cliff stares at Gray as if he had two heads. Why would they care if he went somewhere out of the blue? It’s not like he’s a permanent resident living there, already integrated into the small town community.

Gray shrugs. 

“Sheesh, you're more dense than me.” They make their way over to the small yacht, which shimmers a blinding shade of white in the fast rising sun. They wince in unison. Once their eyes adjust, the two carefully duck their heads to go inside. Cliff immediately feels uneasy stepping onto the boat, a whole new sense of gravity to get used to cause, you know — rocky waves and all. 

Thankfully, Cliff adapts impressively fast and takes a quick look around. 

Although on the smaller side of “yachts” this one was vastly equipped with everything one might need for a short voyage; A lounge area with connected sofas, a bathroom hidden in the corner, along with a fully stocked mini bar not too far off. The walls were snow white and navy blue carpeting rested underneath his boots (good thing he had wiped them off on the dock before entering.) Just stepping in here felt like borderline trespassing. 

Gray lets out a long whistle as he sets down the suitcases, taking it all in. “Wow… just screams “money”, doesn’t it?” His steel blue eyes dart on over to the mini bar, which harbors all different kinds of imported alcohol from all over the globe. 

“Damn, you know — I bet if I took one bottle of expensive-ass champagne I could fix the holes in my wall?”

“Don’t!” Cliff hisses, weakly swatting the other’s shoulder. As if that action’s ever deferred any in the heat of the moment delinquency before. You go Cliff, hero of the people!

Gray scoffs. “Have a little faith. I’m not some klepto.”

“Good.” Cliff says, feeling more at ease. 

The blacksmith casually adjusts his cap, his lips pursed in a thin, unreadable line. “Well, not anymore.”

Before he has the chance to neurotically flip out yet again (He knows Gray gets a sick, twisted kick out of it) Claire curiously peaks her head in. Spotting the two, she smiles. Gray, visibly eager, gestures for her to join the conversation. 

“ _Don’t_ ask her either.” Cliff bitterly reminds, bearing a stern glare. Gray shrugs him off. 

“Ask me what?” Claire blinks, oblivious to the conversation. 

“Don’t worry bout’ it, blondie. Just dumb guy stuff.” He remarks, flashing her a momentary grin. Everyone seems happier around her, one way or another. However, all good things must come to an end.

“Alright... I gotta start headin’ back to the shop. I’m on thin ice with my Gramps as it is so I've been going in earlier tryin’ to appease him.” 

Claire pouts, the events of the spring derby occupying her mind. Not for long, though. Gray quickly perks up the sour taste in the air by giving her hair a good couple of ruffles. 

“Hey now, I’ll have none of that! I wanna see you both with smiles on your faces when you get back. Got it?” He looks at Cliff as he says this. Cliff isn’t sure how to respond, with words or his face. Luckily, he doesn’t have to. 

Claire laughs, playfully swatting the blacksmith’s arm back until he relents. 

He heads to the entrance and tips his hat. “Have a good one, be safe.” 

“We will! Thank you!”

As Gray takes his leave Will appears out of the blue, wearing that signature prince-like smile of his. “Sorry for the delay! All packed and ready to go?”

“Yep!” Claire beams. “Say, can I drive this time? I won’t crash this time!” 

Cliff's eyes expand to the size of saucers. How his poor heart has managed to keep up is beyond him. Will laughs and politely shakes his head, though… there’s a faint sense of apprehension heard in his tone that he’s unable to fully hide. Cliff could relate. “Haha no.. Maybe next time!”

Claire folds her arms and pouts. “You’re no fun.” 

What a trip this will be. 

And what a trip it's turning OUT to be.

Spouts of nausea stir wildly inside Cliff’s stomach, like angry whirlpools wreaking havoc from the inside out. He thought being on the outside, taking in the crisp, fresh air would settle his frazzled nerves. But nope, the smell of sea salt and no land in sight only makes him want to barf more. 

It's a good thing he skipped breakfast. 

Cliff hunches over, forehead pressed against the cool metal of the railing before a gentle hand rests against his back. He didn’t need to look to know who the hand belonged to. 

“Hey… Are you seasick? Cliff, you should’ve said something!” Claire rubs his back in repetitive circles. “I would’ve gotten some medicine back at the General store before we left.”

Cliff shakes his head. “I didn’t eat this morning so I won’t puke,” he strains a smile, followed by shaky laughter. “And besides it only happens sometimes, I didn’t want to get some then have it be a waste in the end.”

She clicks her tongue. 

“Well better safe than sorry, cause look at you! You look terrible! Get back below deck!” 

His hands hug around his aching stomach as he turns just enough to face her. Her cheeks aren't burnt, rather sun-kissed with heat — both from the summer sun looming overhead and her emotions getting the better of her. The coral pink of her favorite hoodie only makes her stand out more, contrasting her agitated expression down to the mark. He notes how Claire’s blue eyes resemble growing embers, ready to burst into full-blown flames if need be to get her point across. 

She truly cares for people, huh?

Without realizing it Cliff smiles, a little less forced this time around (despite having most of the color drained from his sickly visage.) Large beads of sweat cling to his face and that’s her cue to get him near a bucket, pronto. 

“I’ll tell Will to steady the boat some more if he can, but you’re lying down! Lets go!” Claire huffs and begins tugging him forward, Cliff complies without a fuss, doing his best to steady himself as she practically drags him forward back below deck. 

It’s always like this though, isn’t it?

Within a few moments he’s secured downstairs, lying down on the longue sofa. There’s a blanket lightly draped over him and a silver bucket on stand by if he needed it. Claire’s on the opposing sofa, watching over him like a hawk and Cliff can’t help but laugh at the situation. 

“What?” Claire frowns. 

“N-Nothing, I feel like I can’t vomit under pressure, though.”

“Oh.” After a pause of awkward silence, she begins that age old habit of fiddling around with her fingers. “Well I can leave if you really need to —”

“Don’t worry about me,” his words are about as dry as his mouth. “Trust me, I-I’ll be fine once we hit land.”

Which shouldn’t be too long from now, as they were to dock _“very soon”_ according to Will. Still, he finds himself in another lesson of patience waiting for that moment to happen. Carter did say that he’ll be facing a lot of similar situations involving patience.

Cliff sighs as he blows stray hair out of his face, which persists on saying glued to his forehead, soaked in a pool of his own disgusting sweat. _Wonderful._

Claire moves to his side, disregards his current pathetic state entirely and tenderly strokes his bangs back. Her hands are nice and cool to the touch. He almost whines feeling them pull back, until a cool damp rag replaces it. 

“Thanks.” He huffs. 

Call him a needy child or whatever, but he prefers her hand. 

… _Is that weird?_

Claire smiles as she quietly cleans the unwanted moisture off his face, unaware of how she occupies his thoughts, invades his peace of mind. Why should he like her touch? Hell, is that even normal? It’s been so long since he’s had a meaningful, healthy relationship with anybody that all the lines are blurred, distorted beyond comprehension. 

Thanks to her efforts, he's no longer scorching hot to the touch. However, he can definitely feel his face grow increasingly warmer every time her fingertips gently graze past the skin of his cheek. Or how her gentle gaze locks onto him, likes he’s all she wants to look at. 

But that’s just silly, right?

Absentmindedly, he turns to face her and low and behold she’s looking dead at him, tending to him, at his lowest like she had just a few weeks prior. Did he even thank for her that? For all the time she's spent on him? 

Or express just _how_ much she means to him? Could he even do that?

And what would he even say?

Flustered, he lightly tugs at her moving wrist and sits upward, straining yet another smile across his face. Which has a little more color to it. A lot of it. 

“O-Okay! I’m all better, thank you!” 

Claire blinks, clearly taken back. “Oh.. you sure? Your face is kinda red and —“

He laughs, which damn near sounds like a frog croaking underneath someone’s boot. “It’s summer! B-Better red than dead, right?” 

Dear god who even says that? 

“...Cliff.” at that point, her eyes stray away from him. Claire suddenly much more interested in staring down at the plush carpet. It’s such a subtle gesture and yet, his heart shrinks the minute he no longer sees her pretty blue eyes looking his way. 

Apprehensive, Claire breaks the silence with a strained gulp. Her hands tightly clenching the wet cloth between unsteady, balled fists. “Are you having second thoughts? Because.. It’s okay if you are! W-We can just head back and —”

“No.” He cuts her off. Forces himself to clear his head of all these stupid, useless thoughts because god — he’s sick of being so weak and unreliable to others. Worst of all, Cliff despises the thought of her thinking _less_ of him. That dreaded reputation of his, known for being a lonely, no good, flaky traveler wasn’t cutting it anymore. No, he’s done with letting his flaws ruin and dictate his life. 

“I promise you it’s nothing like that.” Cliff sits up, leaning forward to place his hand over hers with such haste, her own words lurch in her throat from sheer shock.

“Yes, I’m feeling nervous.. But I want to be here, with you, to support you like a good friend should.” 

Once again, those baby blues are locked back on to him and in return, they lift off the heavy lock of tension constricted around his chest. 

She giggles, dabbing at the side of his face with the washcloth once more. “Thanks. I’m really glad you’re in my life, Cliff.”

What would once make Cliff bashful and _mildly_ jumpy makes him smile warmly instead. He slowly starts to lean back down. “You too.”

As Claire goes to stand, out of no where the boat jerks roughly, causing her to unexpectedly fall forward. For a spineless coward, his relaxes are fast. He catches her mid-lie down, the color in his cheeks more prominent as ever as the afternoon sun hits him _just_ right. With her head lied out on his chest, Claire looks up with him with bated breath. The boat's no longer rocking so she should get up, and she's perfectly able to, except she doesn't. 

"Well, I guess we finally docked... Hey, you okay?" Cliff looks down at her, not panicked, calm as can be. She wishes she could say the same.

Picture perfect, Cliff glows before her. The backdrop of the vast, blue sky reflects behind him through the windows.

Claire's struck with silence until she jumps to her feet, struggling only slightly to find her balance. Luckily, she does before Cliff can bother to help her. 

"Yeah! Just a little startled, no worries."

"Great!' Already feeling a million times better Cliff stands from the couch and stretches. He grins, his smile whiter than the puffy, white clouds in the sky. "Let's check it out, I miss land!" Before she can agree he's already moving to go to the upper decks. Claire stands there, before nodding to herself in affirmation.

She can do this.

"Okay."

It'll all turn out alright.

"Wait for me!"

Wearing a shy smile Claire follows, feeling nervous, but optimistic for what's to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the incredibly late and slow update speed I've been maintaining for this fanfic. I haven't forgotten about it! I love it too much. But unfortunately, life hit me like a ton of bricks. It's a bit personal so I won't go into graphic details, however i'm dealing with troublesome family issues, which in turn have made my mental health plummet to all time lows. I've also been doing my artwork on the side. 
> 
> Overall, I'm happy with how this chapter came out but I'm not sure if it was entirely worth the wait as it's left on somewhat of a cliff hanger (haha, get it?) And with that bad pun out of the way, I wish you all a beautiful 2021 and nothing but the best! I'll do my best to update more often. Some things are going to happen _very_ soon in the story, so time to get excited!! 
> 
> And again, thank you for reading and supporting me and this fanfic this far!


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